THE SONG OF SONGS.
O the lark by Avon's side
When the leas were wet with dew,
Soaring heavenward, fain to hide
In the far celestial blue!
Light the wind of June went by;
Rose the mist in sunny mazes;
High o'er cloud and zephyr winging
To the angels soared he, singing
Golden-sweet,—then silently
Dropped to rest amid the daisies.
When the leas were wet with dew,
Soaring heavenward, fain to hide
In the far celestial blue!
Light the wind of June went by;
Rose the mist in sunny mazes;
High o'er cloud and zephyr winging
To the angels soared he, singing
Golden-sweet,—then silently
Dropped to rest amid the daisies.
How the building thrushes sung
In gardens where the Limmat flows,
Just as morning's gate outswung
Flushing all the Alps with rose!
How the chorus jubilant
Floated over lake and river!
Life was joy and earth was young
While those building thrushes sung;—
Ah! their melody will haunt
Zurich in my thought forever.
In gardens where the Limmat flows,
Just as morning's gate outswung
Flushing all the Alps with rose!
How the chorus jubilant
Floated over lake and river!
Life was joy and earth was young
While those building thrushes sung;—
Ah! their melody will haunt
Zurich in my thought forever.
Lark and thrush, I love you well;
But I heard a rarer song
But I heard a rarer song
