Chapter 1072 of 1414 · 41 words · ~1 min read

IV.

The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs And climbs the early sky, Winnowing blythe her dewy wings In morning's rosy eye; As little reckt I sorrow's power, Until the flow'ry snare O' witching love, in luckless hour, Made me the thrall o' care.