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To a Skylark for M lady Ernestine

On fragile wings the skylark soars
up to the heights form whence he pours
his early morning orison.

He greets this day and every day
as if his duty is to pay
his respects to the risen sun.

This feathered songster fills the sky
with liquid flowing melody.
To the delight of everyone.

Who has the wit to listen to
the skylarks song forever new.
Before the fleeting chance is gone.

I choose to rise from my warm bed
to tread the dew wet grass instead.
To hear his morning orison.

While slug a beds still sleeping lie
deaf to the glorious harmony
of sky larks singing to the sun.

24-Feb-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Added by Poetry Lover
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