Heaven Soaring Lark

by Mary Eleanor Roberts


 


The heaven-soaring lark, its rapture spent
        On morning's quest
Drops down again, soul-satisied, content
        Unto the next.

Oh sing soul, chafe not, that by erth's chain
        Thou seemest bound!-
The sky's true messenger did ne'er disdain
        The lowly ground.

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