Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2189/The Skylark

in cloudless calm this fresh May morn, High up in soaring ecstasy the lark, A quivering speck of pulsing melody, Brims all the azure vault with rapturous trills. Thick-warbled coruscation., of sweet sound, And pours his little being into song As if the summer day were still too short For all he has to sing. Now, upward yet, With joyous bounds, he mounts and mounts on wings Of reckless freedom, till height dims his notes To muffled softness, and the dazzling blue Absorbs his form in light, like some rapt spirit Which Heaven hides from earth. In praise to God, Who made this world so fair, his life so glad, His Jubilate rings. First treble, he Leads up the many-voiced choir of earth, Where spreads the sapphire semblance of the Throne, With psalm invitatory of cheerful lauds, - "O come before his presence with a song." So Love's full heart upon a morn like this, Impatiant of low flights and tardy strains, Seeks larger utterance than mere words can give And flings tumultuous song far into heaven.