WITH dew upon its breast And sunshine on its wing, The lark uprose from its happy nest And thus it seemed to sing: -- "Sweet, sweet! from the middle of the wheat To meet the morning gray, To leave the corn on a merry morn, Nor have to curse the day." With the dew upon their breast, And the sunlight on their wing, Towards the skies from the furrows rise The larks, and thus they sing: -- "If you would know the cause That makes us sing so gay, It is because we hail and bless, And never curse the day. Sweet, sweet! from the middle of the wheat (@3Where lurk our callow brood@1) Where we were hatch'd, and fed Amidst the corn on a very merry morn (@3We never starve for food@1.) We never starve for bread!" Those flowers so very blue Those poppies flaming red, His heavy eye was glazed and dull, He only murmur'd "bread!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG: SO OFTEN, SO LONG I HAVE THOUGHT by HAYDEN CARRUTH EPITAPH FOR A SOLDIER by DAVID IGNATOW THE POTATOES' DANCE by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY COLUMBUS [AUGUST 3, 1492] by JOHANN CHRISTOPH FRIEDRICH VON SCHILLER THE VIOLINIST by MARGARET STEELE ANDERSON THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 10. THE DEATH OF HUSKISSON by T. BAKER |