|
To a Skylark
Percy Bysshe Shelley
HAIL to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art
With thy clear keen joyance
LANGUOR cannot be:
Shadow of annoyance
Never came near thee:
Thou lovest; but ne
__________________
Mike McCarty
|