Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/304

262 II

The lark springs up from sleepy earth

To dance and soar on wings of mirth,

Dull clouds are cleft, a crystal spire

Shoots up, the air is flaked with fire

As on he sweeps in radiant rings,

Wild music scattering from his wings.

O lark, I know you—lovely life

Unsapped by dual inward strife,

Whose perfect joy is speeding whole

In conscious rapture to your goal,

Who does not plan with downward eye

How far 'tis safe to sing and fly,

Nor heed fear's whisper bidding stoop:

"What now if hawk or kite should swoop?"

There is a time for ground and nest,

For voiceless joy and folded rest;

Only when song and flight are spent

Utterly, will you drop, content,

Your heart and love's heart wholly one

Because you did not fear to run

Across the unknown fields of space,

And take life's challenge face to face.

When I give all I have to give

I'll make no bargain that he live

To lie again upon this breast.

There is a time for ground and nest.