THE LARK'S ESCAPE

BEN. HAWORTH-BOOTH.

My heart is like a winged lark
That, from his cage escaping,
Like arrow flies toward the mark,
His upward pathway shaping
Over the poplars of the park.

He leaves the darkness of the cloud,
And, in the sun's embrances,
He pours his gratitude aloud
In psalms and tuneful phrases:
And I, like him, my vows have vowed.

Though he had known the cruel cage,
The heartless separation,
He made his lonely pilgrimage
His spirit's consecration,
And calmed his woes with counsels sage.

Above the blackness, in the blue,
He has forgot his sadness,
He sings his raptured song unto
The author of his gladness,
And thrills my spirit through and through.

I too will sing with joyful strain
And, free from pain and sorrow,
Rejoice in life new-born again,
And bid my tears good-morrow:
For Love has loosed my clanking chain.

From all my woes I find surcease,
From bolt and bar escaping,
I sing the song of Love's release,
My upward pathway shaping
Into the sunlit heaven of peace.

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