THE SWAN AND THE SKY-LARK.
87
"The summer is come; she hath said, 'Rejoice!'
The wild woods thrill to her merry voice;
Her sweet breath is wandering around, on high;
—Sing, sing thro' the echoing sky!
"There is joy in the mountains; the bright waves
leap,
Like the bounding stag when he breaks from sleep;
Mirthfully, wildly, they flash along—
—Let the heavens ring with song!
"There is joy in the forests; the bird of night
Hath made the leaves tremble with deep delight;
But mine is the glory to sunshine given—
Sing, sing thro' the echoing heav'n!
"Mine are the wings of the soaring morn,
Mine are the fresh gales with day-spring born:
Only young rapture can mount so high—
—Sing, sing thro' the echoing sky!"
