html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }EE! starting from her grassy lair
The Skylark springs aloft in air,
And wings on high her rapid flight
Towards yon blue realms of cloudless light,
Till, mounting still, she seems at last
A speck in ether's boundless waste!
Say,—borne upon her rapid wing,
Shouldst thou not love on high to spring,
And far above this world of care
Roam free through crystal fields of air?
But ah! her upward flight is past;
From those bright realms descending fast
She quickly falls;—her flight is o'er,—
She plants her foot on earth once more.
And thus, on Fancy's pinions borne,
Bright scenes of bliss the mind can form:
And, raised above this world of woe,
Can dream of bliss unknown below;
Till—short that slumber's peaceful reign—
The spirit wakes to earth again.
E.