The Skylark
Somewhere in the park
The early skylark
Sings with verve, his stolen notes.
Weaves them with his own,
Makes them his alone.
On him the rapt poet dotes.
The poet will write
How in late of night
The small skylark sings his song.
He flies very high.
He seems above sky
Sounds like the sky sings along.
7/21/14
For Dr. Mehta's contest
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