Untwisting and twisting the stems and the strands.
Just then, of a sudden, a lark flew by
And sang at the top of his voice in the sky;
"Ho! ho! Mr. Lark," shouted Jane,"come down here!
We're not cruel children. You may come without fear.
We've something to show you. In all your life
maybe
You'll never see anything sweet as our baby!"
'Twas an odd thing, now, for a lark to do—
I hope you won't think my story's untrue—