The merry lark he soars on high,
No worldly thought o'ertakes him.
He sings aloud to the read more

The merry lark he soars on high,
No worldly thought o'ertakes him.
He sings aloud to the clear blue sky,
And the daylight that awakes him.

Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books read more

Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
Thy skilled to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

The bird that soars on highest wing,
Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that read more

The bird that soars on highest wing,
Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that doth most sweetly sing,
Sings in the shade when all things rest:
In lark and nightingale we see
What honor hath humility.

Up springs the lark,
Shrill-voiced, and loud, the messenger of morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he read more

Up springs the lark,
Shrill-voiced, and loud, the messenger of morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts
Calls up the tuneful nations.

And now the herald lark
Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry
The morn's approach, and greet read more

And now the herald lark
Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry
The morn's approach, and greet her with his song.

Oh, stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,
A hapless lover courts read more

Oh, stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing, fond complaining.

Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!
Then, when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms
read more

Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!
Then, when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy swelling-place--
O, to abide in the desert with thee!

Then my dial goes not true; I look this lark for a bunting.

Then my dial goes not true; I look this lark for a bunting.

Hail to thee blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
read more

Hail to thee blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.