The Woodlark

Teevo cheetio cheevio chee:     O where, what can tht be?     Weedio-weedio: there again!     So tiny a trickle of sng-strain;     And all round not to be found     For brier, bough, furrow, or gren ground     Before or behind or far or at hand     Either left either right     Anywhere in the snlight.     Well, after all! Ah but hark -     'I am the little woodlark.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     To-day the sky is two and two     With white strokes and strains of the blue     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     Round a ring, around a ring     And while I sail (must listen) I sing     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     The skylark is my cousin and he     Is known to men more than me     .     .     .     .     .     .     .          . . . when the cry within     Says Go on then I go on     Till the longing is less and the good gone     But down drop, if it says Stop,     To the all-a-leaf of the tretop     And after that off the bough     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     I m so vry, O s very glad     That I d thnk there is not to be had . . .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     The blue wheat-acre is underneath     And the braided ear breaks out of the sheath,     The ear in milk, lush the sash,     And crush-silk poppies aflash,     The blood-gush blade-gash     Flame-rash rudred     Bud shelling or broad-shed     Tatter-tassel-tangled and dingle-a-dangled     Dandy-hung dainty head.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     And down ... the furrow dry     Sunspurge and oxeye     And laced-leaved lovely     Foam-tuft fumitory     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     Through the velvety wind V-winged     To the nest's nook I balance and buoy     With a sweet joy of a sweet joy,     Sweet, of a sweet, of a sweet joy     Of a sweet - a sweet - sweet - joy.'