To a lark.
William Wordsworth
An ethereal bard! Pilgrims in the sky!
Do you despise the earth full of worries?
Or, though the wings yearn, the heart and eyes
With your nest on the dewdrop floor?
You can throw yourself into the nest at will,
Those trembling wings make up the music!
Leave her dark Woods to the nightingale;
Brilliant privacy is yours;
You poured floods into the world from there.
Harmony, instinct is more sacred;
Wise men soar, but never roam;
Loyal to the similarities between heaven and home!