Be Hopeful: I -- The Lark Poem by Janet Hamilton

Morning is doffing her mantle of grey;
Up from the sod to the portals of day
The blithe lark is soaring-carolling free,
Musical spirit o'erflowing with glee.


Storm clouds may darken the fair brow of spring,
Hush the sweet songster and ruffle his wing;
When the bright sunshine comes after the rain,
The lark is soaring and singing again.


Buoyantly, brightly, in life's sunny morn,
Child of the Muses, we saw thee upborne,
Spreading thy pinions the white clouds among,
Pouring thy thrilling and rapturous song.


Thy song may be hushed, thy plumage be soiled,
Struck from the summit to which thou hast toiled:
Be hopeful, thy pinions may bear thee again
On high, and thy song be poured not in vain.