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THE SWAN AND THE SKY-LARK.
Adieu, adieu! my plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades.
Keats.
Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest
Like a cloud of fire;
The blue deep thou wingest,
Shelley.
Midst the long reeds that o'er a Grecian stream
Unto the faint wind sigh'd melodiously,
And where the sculpture of a broken shrine
Sent out, thro' shadowy grass and thick wild flowers,
