A Book on Birds 



The Meadow Lark 



Clear, clear — far or near, 



Bird o' the morning, call! — I hear. 

 Out of the swift advancing light 

 Rising brighter and more bright 

 At the end of each quick flight, — 



Meadow Lark, call! — I hear. 



Call, call!— for of all 



Lures of melody, this the thrall 

 Dawn, awakening in thy breast. 

 Flings forth tenderly to the west, 

 This, oh, this is loveliest — 



Loveliest lure of all. 



Free, free — bush nor tree 



Shut the goldening skies from^thee! 

 Deep in the clover-field abloom. 

 Fragrant, billowy, great with room. 

 Wide apart from the forest gloom. 



Thither thy nest shall be! 



There, where — all the air 

 Bloweth halcyon, hale and rare! 

 Up and on with the buoyant day — 

 On into noon and evening gray, 

 Seeking the mountains far away — 

 Hale and halcyon air! 



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