And shrill lark carols clear from her aërial tour.
James Beattie, 1735–1803.
MORNING WALK.
The morning hath not lost her virgin blush,
Nor step, but mine, soil’d the earth’s tinsel’d robe.
How full of Heaven this solitude appears—
This healthful comfort of the happy swain,
Who from his hard but peaceful bed roused up,
In morning’s exercise saluted is
By a full choir of feather’d choristers,