Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high
And read more

Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast
The sun ariseth in his majesty;
Who doth the world so gloriously behold
That cedar tops and hills seem burnished gold.

It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.

It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.

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!

Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed.

Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed.

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.

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.

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.

The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build
Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.

The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build
Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.

None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The read more

None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.