To A Skylark – Percy Bysshe Shelley

Percy Bysshe Shelley – To A Skylark – Go through by Tony Britton To A Skylark Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822) Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! Bird thou in no way wert, That from heaven, or in close proximity to it, Pourest thy entire heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated artwork. Larger even now and greater From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire The blue deep thou wingest, And singing nevertheless dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O’er which clouds are bright’ning, Thou dost float and run, Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. The pale purple even Melts about thy flight Like a star of heaven In the broad daylight Thou art unseen, but but I listen to thy shrill delight — Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere Whose intensive lamp narrows In the white dawn apparent Right up until we barely see — we really feel that it is there. All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when evening is bare, From one particular lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. What thou art we know not What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden In the gentle of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not: Like a higher-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her adore-laden Soul in mystery hour With new music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering

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