The Lark

Charles Mackay

1814 to 1889

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Track 1

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A soul unbent by the world’s despair!
Greeting the beam o’er the far hills borne.
Floating aloft on thy russet wing,
As long as the fields and the woods are green,
Soaring so high in the dawning grey?
The breezes soft, and the sky serene,
O! for a spirit untorn by care,
Whither, oh sweet lark, whither away,
Soaring so high in the dawning grey?
I see thee not, but I hear thy voice,
I see thee not, but I hear thy voice,
To revel and sing in the morning shine!
O! for a wing and a voice like thine,
Singing aloud, "Rejoice! rejoice!
Pleasant to thee are the days of spring;
Happy art thou, O bird of morn,
Singing aloud, "Rejoice! rejoice!
Whither, oh! sweet lark, whither away,
For sorrow is man’s, and man’s alone!
Thou hast no sorrow to make thee moan,

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