English poem
A LARK:
by Laurence Alma-Tadema (1865–1940)
Lark-bird, lark-bird soaring high, Are you never weary? When you reach the empty sky, Are the clouds not dreary? Don't you sometimes long to be A silent gold-fish in the sea?
Gold-fish, gold-fish diving deep, Are you never sad, say? When you feel the cold waves creep Are you really glad, say? Don't you sometimes long to sing And be a lark-bird on the wing?