And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain
And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.
O blessèd bird! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
An unsubstantial, fairy place:
That is fit home for thee!
William Wordsworth.
A GREEN CORNFIELD.
"And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest."
The earth was green, the sky was blue:
I saw and heard one sunny morn
A skylark hang between the two,
A singing speck above the corn;
A stage below, in gay accord,
White butterflies danced on the wing,
And still the singing skylark soared
And silent sank, and soared to sing.
The cornfield stretched a tender green
To right and left beside my walks;
I knew he had a nest unseen
Somewhere among the million stalks:
And as I paused to hear his song
While swift the sunny moments slid,
Perhaps his mate sat listening long,
And listened longer than I did.