The Lark

Freed from her trap Bird soared into air,and hovered. then floated, resting; And flew higher, singing as she flew, And higher again, Till there was only her song, Left in the silence, Trembling. Up on the wide,stump topped hill, I felt the lark inside my heart And heard her singing. And flying up with her, I saw gold sun and silver moon, Moors of heather ,and sheep grazing Green hills, And shimmering lakes, Clouds ,sun and sky in watery mirrors. And sang ,and dipped,and dropped, And curled Up the blue Bright heaven, and rested On the wind. All that day I was a lark singing. I shall always have a vision of A bird That flew upwards, Rejoicing and free Into a deep blue sky, and high And higher Beyond high Into a place, beyond eye even, But music still sending. I wish I were back on that heathery moor, With the nibbling sheep and the bees sweetly humming, Hearing again The poignant song Of the skylark, A prisoner,freed by a magician, From her trap, So happy to be free, So wonderful to see. Do it again, For me.