The sky-lark’s SONG
HEY, laddie, hark, to the merry, merry lark;
How high he singeth clear:
Oh, a morn in spring is the sweetest thing
That cometh in all the year!
Oh, a morn in spring is the sweetest thing
That cometh in all the year!
Ring, ting! it is the merry spring-time;
How full of heart a body feels!...
If there be graveyards in the heart
From which no roses spring,
A place of wrecks and old gray tombs
From which no birds take wing,
Where linger buried hopes and dreams
Like ghosts among the graves,
Why, buried hopes are dismal things,
And lonely ghosts are knaves!
If there come dreary winter days,
When summer...
To-day, dear heart, but just to-day,
The sunshine over all,
The roses crimsoning the air
Along the garden wall!
Then let the dream and dreamer die;
Whate’er shall be, shall be—
To-day will still be thine and mine
To all eternity.
And oh, there is no glory, dear,
When all the world is done,
There is no...
