To a Skylark 



By Percy Bysshe Shelley 



The daintiness and delicacy of the poet's touch in this poem has made it immortal. 



Hail to thee, blithe spirit ! — 



Bird thou never wert — 

 That from heaven or near it 

 Pourest thy full heart 

 In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 



Higher still and higher 



From the earth thou springest 

 Like a cloud of fire ; 



The blue deep thou wingest, 

 And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. 



In the golden lightning 



Of the sunken sun. 

 O'er which clouds are brightening, 



Thou dost float and run. 

 Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. 



The pale purple even 



Melts around thy flight ; 

 Like a star of heaven 



In the broad daylight 

 Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight. 



All the earth and air. 



With thy voice is loud. 

 As, when night is bare. 



From one lonely cloud 

 The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. 



What thou art we know not; 



What is most like thee? 

 From rainbow clouds there flow not 

 Drops so bright to see, 

 As from thy presence showers a rain of melody: — 



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