The Meadow Lark 



By Evely Phinney 



1 heard a Lark in tlir incatlow >ing : 



"Life soon passes !" 



He callfd from his throne of grasses, 

 "Life is vanishing, vanishing!" 



I saw hini. jubilant, afar — 



Wind-swept rover — 



Perched in my field of clover. 

 Insistent he as prophets are. 



Such sky, such scent, such plains of air! 



Such waters flowing ! 



Yet: "Life is going, going!" 

 He sang and sang, ecstatic, there. 



"O Ilirfl." I cried, '"what hope is thine. 



What longed to-morrow, 



That thou shouldst such contentment borrow. 

 Nor for thy little day repine?" 



I watched him and I pondered long. 



On my ear beating. 



Came to me dominant, entreating. 

 That liquid affluence of song. 



What hope, what rapture in that strain ! 



Like flaming fire 



My soul swept up and could not tire. 

 Borne on those gusts of bliss and pain. 



I mounted, at heaven's gate to cling. 



"Life soon passes !" 



O joy ! O voice from the grasses I 

 Life is vaTiishing. vanishing! 



— Atlantic Monthlv. 



779 



