Oh! Skylark, for Thy Wing!

Oh! Skylark, for thy wing!
Thou bird of joy and light,
That I might soar and sing
At heaven’s empyreal height!
With the heathery hills beneath me,
Whence the streams in glory spring,
And the pearly clouds to wreathe me,
O Skylark! on thy wing!

Free, free, from earth-born fear,
I would range the blessed skies,
Through the blue divinely clear,
Where the low mists cannot rise!
And a thousand joyous measures
From my chainless heart should spring,
Like the bright rain’s vernal treasures,
As I wander’d on thy wing.

But oh! the silver cords
That around the heart are spun,
From gentle tones and words,
And kind eyes that make our sun!
To some low, sweet nest returning,
How soon my love would bring
There, there the dews of morning,
O Skylark! on thy wing!