Oh skylark, for thy wing!
Thou bird of joy and light,
That I might soar and sing...
At heav'ns empyreal height!

With the heathery hills beneath me,
Where the streams in glory spring,
And the pearly clouds to wreath me,
Oh skylark for thy wing.

Free, free from earth born fear,
I would range the blessed skies,
Thro' the blue divinly clear,
Where the low mist cannot rise!

And a thousand joyous measures
From my chainless heart should spring,
Like the bright rains vernal treasures,
As I wanderd on thy wing.

But ah! the silver chords,
That round the heart are spun,
From gentle tones and words,
And kind eyes that make our sun!

To some low sweet nest returning,
How soon my love would bring
There there the dews of morning,
Oh, skylark on thy wing.