The Singer

O Lark! sweet lark!

Where learn you all your minstrelsy?

What realms are those to which you fly?

While robins feed their young from dawn till dark,

You soar on high—

Forever in the sky.

O child! dear child!

Above the clouds I lift my wing

To hear the bells of Heaven ring;

Some of their music, though my flights be wild,

To Earth I bring;

Then let me soar and sing!