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. Sir William DavenantThe Lark now Leaves his Watery Nest.
The pretty Lark, climbing the Welkin cleer, Chaunts with a cheer, Heer peerI neer my Deer; Then stooping thence (seeming her fall to rew) Adieu (she saith) adieu, deer Deer, adieu. Du BartasWeekes and Workes. Fifth Day.
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away! Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place O, to abide in the desert with thee! HoggThe Skylark.
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. MontgomeryHumility.
O happy skylark springing Up to the broad, blue sky, Too fearless in thy winging, Too gladsome in thy singing, Thou also soon shalt lie Where no sweet notes are ringing. Christina G. RossettiGone Forever. St. 2.
Hark! hark! the lark at heavens gate sings, And Phbus gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chalicd flowers that lies. And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes; With everything that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise! Cymbeline. Act II. Sc. 3. Song. L. 21.
Some say, that ever gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviours birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long: And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallowd and so gracious is the time. Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 158.
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. ThomsonThe Seasons. Spring. L. 587.
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, that music still! WordsworthPoems of the Imagination. To a Skylark.
Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine: Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine: Type of the wise who soar, but never roam: True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home! WordsworthPoems of the Imagination. To a Skylark.