. A selection of posthumous poems. p i tiU v: K ft ^Kv^j^raKv^jj^^ •s 1 1 i i1 1 i. THE CAPTIVE SKYLARK. Poor bird! how piteous thy chains,Prisoner within those wiry bars ; I hear thee pour thy mournful strains,-Cursing thy stars. Caught by a ruthless, cruel hand,Rude man retains thee as his prize : Captive for life at his command,—I hear thy sighs. Thy cage, both prison-house and grave,—? No more thoult fan the morning air,Nor up to heavn on fluttering wing, zl> Thy matins bear. ! ft Z_ b •* / 3 j1 j i1 THE CAPTIVE SKYLARK. No more on high, behind yon cloud,Towering aloft on breezy morn, S
. A selection of posthumous poems. p i tiU v: K ft ^Kv^j^raKv^jj^^ •s 1 1 i i1 1 i. THE CAPTIVE SKYLARK. Poor bird! how piteous thy chains,Prisoner within those wiry bars ; I hear thee pour thy mournful strains,-Cursing thy stars. Caught by a ruthless, cruel hand,Rude man retains thee as his prize : Captive for life at his command,—I hear thy sighs. Thy cage, both prison-house and grave,—? No more thoult fan the morning air,Nor up to heavn on fluttering wing, zl> Thy matins bear. ! ft Z_ b •* / 3 j1 j i1 THE CAPTIVE SKYLARK. No more on high, behind yon cloud,Towering aloft on breezy morn, Shall thy sweet notes be heard aloud,By zephyrs borne. No more thoult welcome the first dawnOf opening day, with rosy beams, While oer the verdant field and lawn,Its beauty streams. No more thoult wake the sweet repose,And golden dreams of peasants care ; Where grow the woodbine and the rose,Scenting the air. Sweet portress of the morning hour,Whose music soars to heavn above, And whose melodious numbers pourIn notes of love :— No more thoult see the violet bow,Bend gra
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Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, bookidselectionofposth00peak
