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Poem by Edith Nesbit The Skylark “... a dripping shower of notes from the softening blue. It is the skylark come.” — ROBERT À FIELD, in the New Age. “IT is the skylark come.” For shame! Robert-à-Cockney is thy name: Robert-à-Field would surely know That skylarks, bless them, never go! . . . . . Love of my life, bear witness here How we have heard them all the year; How to the skylark’s song are set The days we never can forget. At Rustington, do you remember? We heard the skylarks in December; In January above the snow They sang to us by Hurstmonceux Once in the keenest airs of March We heard them near the Marble Arch; Their April song thrilled Tonbridge air; May found them singing everywhere; And oh, in Sheppey, how their tune Rhymed with the bean-flower scent in June. One unforgotten day at Rye They sang a love-song in July; In August, hard by Lewes town, They sang of joy ’twixt sky and down; And in September’s golden spell We heard them singing on Scaw Fell. October’s leaves were brown and sere, But skylarks sang by Teston Weir; And in November, at Mount’s Bay, They sang upon our wedding day! . . . . . Mr.-à-Field, go forth, go forth, Go east and west and south and north; You’ll always find the furze in flower, Find every hour the lovers’ hour, And, by my faith in love and rhyme, The skylark singing all the time! Edith Nesbit Edith Nesbit's other poems: Poems of the other poets with the same name: 1261 Views |
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