Présentation de l'éditeur
The lark, the lark! I love the lark The herald of the morn; He seems to say In his sweet way: A nother day is born, He sings to me from yonder tree, As oer the fields I go; His sweetest strain From hill and plain Makes earth with beauty glow. At twilight when my steps I wend Toward home and loved ones dear, The larks sweet song Cheers me along When eer his voice I hear. Oh, let me fly to yonder sky And soar with thesabove! For there Id be From sorrow free, And dwell in peace and love.
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)
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