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THE SPARROW TO THE SKYLARK

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O skylark, soaring, soaring, Ere day is well begun, Thy full, glad song outpouring To greet the rising sun,— So high, so high in heaven Thy swift wing cleaves the blue, We sparrows in the hedges Can scarcely follow you!

O strong, unwearied singer! By summer winds caressed, Among the white clouds floating With sunshine on thy breast, We hear thy clear notes dropping In showers of golden rain, A glad, triumphant music That hath no thought of pain!

We twitter in the hedges; We chirp our little songs, Whose low, monotonous murmur To homeliest life belongs; We perch in lowly places, We hop from bough to bough, While in the wide sky-spaces, On strong wing soarest thou!

Yet we—we share the rapture And glory of thy flight— Thou’rt still a bird, O skylark,— Thou spirit glad and bright! And ah! no sparrow knoweth But its low note may be Part of earth’s joy and gladness That finds full voice in thee!

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