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Updated: June 2, 2025
After she had played for some time she began to sing, and her voice was sweeter than the lark's: 'I come from my own country far Into this foreign land, Of all I own I take alone My sweet lute in my hand. 'Oh! who will thank me for my song, Reward my simple lay? Like lover's sighs it still shall rise To greet thee day by day.
Wiser critics than Rose felt and admired this; less partial ones could not deny their praise to a first effort, which seemed as spontaneous and aspiring as a lark's song; and, when one or two of these Jupiters had given a nod of approval, Mac found himself, not exactly famous, but much talked about.
They wouldn't in their dinner hour lie flat on their backs on the grass to stare at the sky. Neither did they go about the fields screaming dismal tunes. Many times have I heard his high-pitched voice from behind the ridge of some sloping sheep-walk, a voice light and soaring, like a lark's, but with a melancholy human note, over our fields that hear only the song of birds.
Even Connie found dish-doing hours irresistible, and could invariably be found, face in her hands, both elbows on the table, gazing with passionate earnestness at the young story-teller. Now, some of Lark's stories were such weird and fearful things that they had seriously interfered with Connie's slumbers, and Prudence had sternly prohibited them.
The song came from the air, above a wide, low meadow many hundred yards away. Withdrawing a few paces to a more elevated position, I bent my eye and ear eagerly in that direction. Yes, that unstinted, jubilant, skyward, multitudinous song can be none other than the lark's! Any of our native songsters would have ceased while I was listening.
The lark's song came vibrating through the air, and in the more open spaces innumerable birds flew twittering in the sun. The dewy freshness, the exquisite softness of spring, was everywhere. In the golden weather, through shadowed wood and sunny opening, the war-chief sought his daughter's lodge. Suddenly a familiar sound attracted his attention, and he turned toward it.
It may even attempt a sort of logical or pseudo-logical deduction from given premises, like Browning's famous "Morning's at seven; The hillside's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing: The snail's on the thorn; God's in his Heaven All's right with the world!"
"Well, at least I can show something for it," said Fred; "they allow me a lark's diet instead of a wren's, I can hold up my head like other people now, and I actually made my own legs and the table's carry me to the window yesterday, which is what I call getting on. But I do not think it is so with mamma.
But I feel it's my duty to prepare you. I might have got on better if there'd been some one to do the same by me. There wasn't. Kruger, my so-called assistant, is a spy. At best, he's a mere accountant, not supposed to look after the passengers socially. I gather that he was some secretary of Lark's. Beware of him. He writes to Lark from every port.
You do not know what you may find each day; perhaps you may only pick up a fallen feather, but it is beautiful, every filament. Always beautiful! everything beautiful! And are these things new the ploughman and his team, the lark's song the green leaf? Can they be new? Surely they have been of old time! They are, indeed, new the only things that are so; the rest is old and grey, and a weariness.
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