The Lark by Jane Windsor

O! Swift-feathered wings, how they soar, how they climb

Their journey goes on through the mists of the sky

Forever they drift into epochs of time

To sing to the night air, forever they fly

And see how they whisper their senses till dawn

Each birth of the day in majestical peace

So woken in glory, as when we are born

From one to another their words will not cease.

Sometimes hardly seen through the rays of the sun

Their shadows will reach us, so swiftly in haste 

Oh that we caught them! To grasp and to run

Yet the moment passes, but we had our taste

At times before sleep we embody the dark

And there is our thinking - the vision! The lark! 

Each fading of hope, or each wish for a dream 

Comes like the flight or the fall of a bird

Whatever comes to us, whatever we seem 

We will fly onwards and upwards - be heard!

When I fear my falling I'll look to my choice

And there I will find my dominion! My voice!