by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)

The little red lark
Language: English 
Oh swan of slenderness,
Dove of tenderness,
  Jewel of joys, arise!
The little red lark,
Like a [rosy]1 spark
  Of song to his sunburst flies.
But till [thou art]2 risen
Earth is a prison
  Full of my lonesome sighs;
Then awake and discover
To thy fond lover
  The morn of thy matchless eyes.

The dawn is dark to me.
Hark! o hark to me,
  Pulse of my heart, I pray!
And out of thy hiding
With blushes gliding
  Dazzle me with thy day.
Ah, then, once more to thee
Flying I'll pour to thee
  Passion so sweet and gay.
The lark shall listen,
And dewdrops glisten,
 Laughing on [every]3 spray.

View original text (without footnotes)
1 Stanford: "soaring"
2 Stanford: "thou'rt"
3 Stanford: "ev'ry"

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)


Researcher for this text: Ted Perry

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 110