174 PASQUE-FLOWER. 



The soaring lark finds her awake in the gray 

 morning, when the flowers on the heath are 

 sleeping around, and all is still as midnight. 

 The lark sings to her, and she watches his 

 upward progress, soaring and warbling, till 

 he seems but as a speck in the firmament of 

 heaven. 



Fond bird, that swift on duteous wing, 

 Preced'st the shadowy paths of spring, 

 When first around our changeful skies, 

 Renew'd her soft'ning lustres rise. 

 That fondly fram'st the cradling sphere,* 

 As genial breathes the rolling year ; 

 Resign'd in gloom of wintry hours. 

 For Thebes, or Nilus' sultry towers. 

 Like thee, within this sorrowing breast, 

 Affection reigns a halcyon guest. 

 Leads the gay dance of sprightly joys, 

 That life's relenting gleam employs. 

 But ne'er from distant shores awhile 

 Inconstant woos a wayward smile, 



* Alluding to the peculiar construction of a swallow's nest. 



