The Meadow Lark 157 



subtle tremor in the notes of this singer, no more to be de- 

 scribed than the odor of the rose." 



"Minstrel of melody, 



How shall I chant of thee, 

 Floating in meadows athrill with thy song? 



Fluting anear my feet, 



Plaintive and wildly sweet 

 Oh, could thy spirit to mortal belong! 



Tell me thy secret art, 



How thou dost touch the heart, 

 Hinting of happiness still unpossessed; 



Say, doth thy bosom burn 



Vainly, as mine, and yearn 

 Sadly for something that leaves it unblessed?" 



