108 THE SKYLARK. 



So sweet is th j lay 



Heard far, far away, 



While the swelling notes to the clouds aspire, 

 As though they were caught from an angel's lyre, 

 And echoed the strains of the heavenly choir. 



I have watched thy descent 



When weary and spent, 



But not long on the earth didst thou lingering remain 

 Thou wert soon on thy airy track again, 

 And filling the sky with thy joyous strain. 



Tho' the fetters of clay 



My flight would delay, 

 Tho' heavy griefs to my spirit may cling, 

 Like thee I would spread forth the feeble wing, 

 And songs of thanksgiving and gratitude sing. 



When weary and worn 



To earth I am borne, 

 Not long would my fluttering spirit delay, 

 But soaring again on my heaven-Avard way, 

 I would hasten my flight to the portals of day. 



And the choral hymn 

 Through the distance dim, 

 Should lure me along on my heavenly flight, 

 Ascending through glorious regions of light, 

 To gaze on the vision unspeakably bright. 



