One song of love to that bright God above.
Oft I have heard that larks, in England's realm,
Fly from the earth, at morning's golden blush,
And fill the whole bright arch with golden songs?
And I have reasoned they sung only love,
Which teaches them that strangest melody,
Which they soar nearest heaven to warble out.
Oft have I seen the beams that leave the sun,
Embrace within the clouds, with shining arms—
And form a splendid arch in earth and heaven,