Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 32 1832.pdf/2



! sky-lark, for thy wing! Thou bird of joy and light, That I might soar and sing At Heaven's empyreal height! With the heathery hills beneath me, Whence the streams in glory spring, And the pearly clouds to wreath me— Oh, sky-lark! on thy wing!

Free, free from earth-born fear, I would range the blessed skies, Through the blue divinely clear, Where the low mists cannot rise! And a thousand joyous measures From my chainless heart should spring, Like the bright rain's vernal treasures, As I wander'd on thy wing.

But oh! the silver cords, That around the heart are spun, From gentle tones and words, And kind eyes that make our sun! To some low sweet nest returning, How soon my love would bring, There, there the dews of morning, Oh, sky-lark! on thy wing!