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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396900" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Lark Ascending</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He rises and begins to round,<br>He drops the silver chain of sound<br>Of many links without a break,<br>In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake,<br>All intervolv’d and spreading wide,<br>Like water-dimples down a tide<br>Where ripple ripple overcurls<br>And eddy into eddy whirls;<br>A press of hurried notes that run<br>So fleet they scarce are more than one,<br>Yet changingly the trills repeat<br>And linger ringing while they fleet,<br>Sweet to the quick o’ the ear, and dear<br>To her beyond the handmaid ear,<br>Who sits beside our inner springs,<br>Too often dry for this he brings,<br>Which seems the very jet of earth<br>At sight of sun, her musci’s mirth,<br>As up he wings the spiral stair,<br>A song of light, and pierces air<br>With fountain ardor, fountain play,<br>To reach the shining tops of day,<br>And drink in everything discern’d<br>An ecstasy to music turn’d,<br>Impell’d by what his happy bill<br>Disperses; drinking, showering still,<br>Unthinking save that he may give<br>His voice the outlet, there to live<br>Renew’d in endless notes of glee,<br>So thirsty of his voice is he,<br>For all to hear and all to know<br>That he is joy, awake, aglow,<br>The tumult of the heart to hear<br>Through pureness filter’d crystal-clear,<br>And know the pleasure sprinkled bright<br>By simple singing of delight,<br>Shrill, irreflective, unrestrain’d,<br>Rapt, ringing, on the jet sustain’d<br>Without a break, without a fall,<br>Sweet-silvery, sheer lyrical,<br>Perennial, quavering up the chord<br>Like myriad dews of sunny sward<br>That trembling into fulness shine,<br>And sparkle dropping argentine;<br>Such wooing as the ear receives<br>From zephyr caught in choric leaves<br>Of aspens when their chattering net<br>Is flush’d to white with shivers wet;<br>And such the water-spirit’s chime<br>On mountain heights in morning’s prime,<br>Too freshly sweet to seem excess,<br>Too animate to need a stress;<br>But wider over many heads<br>The starry voice ascending spreads,<br>Awakening, as it waxes thin,<br>The best in us to him akin;<br>And every face to watch him rais’d,<br>Puts on the light of children prais’d,<br>So rich our human pleasure ripes<br>When sweetness on sincereness pipes,<br>Though nought be promis’d from the seas,<br>But only a soft-ruffling breeze<br>Sweep glittering on a still content,<br>Serenity in ravishment.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For singing till his heaven fills,<br>’T is love of earth that he instils,<br>And ever winging up and up,<br>Our valley is his golden cup,<br>And he the wine which overflows<br>To lift us with him as he goes:<br>The woods and brooks, the sheep and kine<br>He is, the hills, the human line,<br>The meadows green, the fallows brown,<br>The dreams of labor in the town;<br>He sings the sap, the quicken’d veins;<br>The wedding song of sun and rains<br>He is, the dance of children, thanks<br>Of sowers, shout of primrose-banks,<br>And eye of violets while they breathe;<br>All these the circling song will wreathe,<br>And you shall hear the herb and tree,<br>The better heart of men shall see,<br>Shall feel celestially, as long<br>As you crave nothing save the song.<br>Was never voice of ours could say<br>Our inmost in the sweetest way,<br>Like yonder voice aloft, and link<br>All hearers in the song they drink:<br>Our wisdom speaks from failing blood,<br>Our passion is too full in flood,<br>We want the key of his wild note<br>Of truthful in a tuneful throat,<br>The song seraphically free<br>Of taint of personality,<br>So pure that it salutes the suns<br>The voice of one for millions,<br>In whom the millions rejoice<br>For giving their one spirit voice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet men have we, whom we revere,<br>Now names, and men still housing here,<br>Whose lives, by many a battle-dint<br>Defaced, and grinding wheels on flint,<br>Yield substance, though they sing not, sweet<br>For song our highest heaven to greet:<br>Whom heavenly singing gives us new,<br>Enspheres them brilliant in our blue,<br>From firmest base to farthest leap,<br>Because their love of Earth is deep,<br>And they are warriors in accord<br>With life to serve and pass reward,<br>So touching purest and so heard<br>In the brain’s reflex of yon bird;<br>Wherefore their soul in me, or mine,<br>Through self-forgetfulness divine,<br>In them, that song aloft maintains,<br>To fill the sky and thrill the plains<br>With showerings drawn from human stores,<br>As he to silence nearer soars,<br>Extends the world at wings and dome,<br>More spacious making more our home,<br>Till lost on his aërial rings<br>In light, and then the fancy sings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Meredith">George Meredith</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396900" data-title="The Lark Ascending de George Meredith" data-description="He rises and begins to round,
He drops the silver chain of sound
Of many links without a break,
In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake,
All intervolv’d and spreading wide,
Like water-dimples down a tide
Where ripple ripple overcurls
And eddy into e..."></div>
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