THE FLIGHT.
81
XVI.
Begin to warble yonder in the budding orchard trees!
The lark has past from earth to Heaven upon the morning breeze!
How gladly, were I one of those, how early would I wake!
And yet the sorrow that I bear is sorrow for his sake.
Begin to warble yonder in the budding orchard trees!
The lark has past from earth to Heaven upon the morning breeze!
How gladly, were I one of those, how early would I wake!
And yet the sorrow that I bear is sorrow for his sake.
XVII.
They love their mates, to whom they sing; or else their songs, that meet
The morning with such music, would never be so sweet!
They love their mates, to whom they sing; or else their songs, that meet
The morning with such music, would never be so sweet!
