The little red lark, like a rosy spark
Of song, to his sun-burst flies;
But till you are risen, earth is a prison,
Full of my captive sighs.


Song, "The Little Red Lark".

Wikisource Littell's Living Age/Volume 143/Issue 1847/Irish Love-Song

Alfred Perceval Graves Quotes

The little red lark, like a rosy spark Of song, to his sun-burst flies; But till you are risen, earth is a prison, Full of my captive sighs.

The little red lark, like a rosy spark Of song, to his sun-burst flies; But till you are risen, earth is a prison, Full of my captive sighs.

The little red lark, like a rosy spark Of song, to his sun-burst flies; But till you are risen, earth is a prison, Full of my captive sighs.

The little red lark, like a rosy spark Of song, to his sun-burst flies; But till you are risen, earth is a prison, Full of my captive sighs.