THE lark above our heads doth know A heaven we see not here below; She sees it, and for joy she sings; Then falls with ineffectual wings. Ah, soaring soul! faint not nor tire! Each heaven attained reveals a higher. Thy thought is of thy failure; we List raptured, and thank God for thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NO EXEMPTION FOR TOURISTS by KAREN SWENSON THE SILLER CROUN by SUSANNA BLAMIRE AFTER WINTER by STERLING ALLEN BROWN THE SONG OF THE SMOKE by WILLIAM EDWARD BURGHARDT DU BOIS MY LITTLE DREAMS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CITY LYRICS by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS ARISTOPHANES' APOLOGY; BEING THE LAST ADVENTURE OF BALAUSTION: PART 2 by ROBERT BROWNING |