The Love-Lilt O' The Lark Poem by Alexander Anderson

A lark lap up frae the daisied field,
An', O, but his sang was sweet;
His wee wings shook till the draps o' dew
Fell doon beside my feet.


My heart grew fain as I heard him sing,
An' the tears were in my een,
For it thrilled wi' the love o' the fields and hills,
An' the banks sae sweet an' green.


'What gars ye sing, thou bonnie bird,
Sae high in the simmer air?
An' what is the secret o' your sang,
That I fain wad like to share?


'Is your lilt sae sweet for the sake o' the flowers—
The daisies sae braw and bricht—
Or the burnies that row by the gowden broom,
Where the blue-bells nod in the licht?


'Is your sang sae sweet for the sake o' the trees
That wave their leaves in the win'?
Or that, as ye mount to the sunny sky,
Ye are leavin' the earth ahin'?'


Then he faulded his wings and doon he cam'
Frae the sky sae blue an' clear,
An' aye, as nearer he cam' to the earth,
His sang was sweeter to hear.


'It's no' for the flowers nor the hingin' blue-bells,'
Sang the bonnie bird to me,
'Nor yet for the trees nor the burnies that row
An' murmur an' rin in their glee.


'But my sang is sweet for the sake o' the love
That is loupin' within my breast,
For I ken as I sing there is ane wha hears,
An' she's sittin' upon her nest.