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.

In bed we laugh, in bed we cry;
And born in bed, in bed we die;
The read more

In bed we laugh, in bed we cry;
And born in bed, in bed we die;
The near approach a bed may show
Of human bliss to human woe.
[Fr., Theatre des ris et des pleurs
Lit! ou je nais, et ou je meurs,
Tu nous fais voir comment voisins
Sont nos plaisirs et chagrins.]

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.

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!

Like feather-bed betwixt a wall
And heavy brunt of cannon ball.

Like feather-bed betwixt a wall
And heavy brunt of cannon ball.

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.

The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
Come, darkness, moonrise, everything
read more

The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
Come, darkness, moonrise, everything
That is so silent, sweet, and pale:
Come, so ye wake the nightingale.

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,
The bed be blest that I lye on.

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,
The bed be blest that I lye on.

The lark now leaves his watery nest,
And climbing, shakes his dewy wings.
He takes your window read more

The lark now leaves his watery nest,
And climbing, shakes his dewy wings.
He takes your window for the East
And to implore your light he sings.