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 The music soars within the little lark,
 And the lark soars.  
 The music soars within the little lark,
 And the lark soars. 
 Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
 Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
  The bird of read more 
 Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
 Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
  The bird of dawning singeth all night long,
   And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,
    The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
     No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm.
      So hallowed and so gracious is that time. 
 To hear the lark begin his flight,
 And singing startle the dull Night,
  From his watch-tower in read more 
 To hear the lark begin his flight,
 And singing startle the dull Night,
  From his watch-tower in the skies,
   Till the dappled dawn doth rise. 
Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed.
Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed.
 It was the lark, the herald of the morn;
 No nightingale.  
 It was the lark, the herald of the morn;
 No nightingale. 
 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. 
 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. 
 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. 
 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.