“HH Great Bye.

“A skylark wounded on the wing
Doth make a cherub cease to sing.”
—BLakE.

#LL was grey and quiet one morning early in June; the
mother lark was sleeping with her wings spread out
over her little ones, while her husband stood on one leg
by her side with his head tucked under his wing.

He was stirring in his sleep, for it was nearly time for him
to wake up, and he knew it. Presently there was a soft flutter,
the lark pruned his feathers, shook them, and with a leap,
darted upward into the air which was still dusky. While his
little wife still slept he flew higher and higher, singing so
sweetly that soon she woke to listen.

Far, far up soared the lark, as the sky began to grow like
silver, and the great sun rose over the hill. The bright golden
ball was hasting to begin the day’s work—of opening all the
little flowers, calling all the small birds and insects into life,
as well as men, women, and children; for that is the sun’s
duty, besides giving light to all the wide world which he looks
down upon with his great eye.

Oh, how far the sun’s great eye could see!

There was no corner or cranny anywhere into which he
did not peep. Although he was looking down on the vast
earth and could see many other worlds—and could take in at
a glance the whole of the wide sea, the great forests and huge
mountains too—yet at the same time he noticed how every
little daisy-bud was unfolding.