Freed from her trap
Bird soared into air,and hovered
And floated, resting;
And flew higher, singing as she flew,
And higher again,
Till there was only her song,
Left in the silence,
Up on the wide,stump topped hill,
I felt the lark inside my heart
And heard her singing.
And flying up with her,
I saw gold sun and silver moon,
Moors of heather ,and sheep grazing
And shimmering lakes,
Clouds ,sun and sky in watery mirrors.
And sang ,and dipped,and dropped,
Up the blue
Bright heaven, and rested
On the wind.
All that day
I was a lark singing.
I shall always have a vision of
That flew upwards,
Rejoicing and free
Into a deep blue sky, and high
Into a place, beyond eye even,
But music still sending.
I wish I were back on that heathery moor,
With the nibbling sheep and the bees sweetly humming,
The poignant song
Of the skylark,
A prisoner,freed by a magician,
From her trap,
So happy to be free,
So wonderful to see.
Do it again,