Clear Quote by John Lyly

No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.

— Alexander Pope

The music soars within the little lark, And the lark soars.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

“and suddenly she began to sing. Keen, heart-piercing was her song as the song of the lark that rises from the gates of night…

— J.R.R. Tolkien

I walk where once the grass was green And mourn the lark that sings no more What bird could sing whose eyes have seen…

— Tom Springfield

Aubade THE lark now leaves his wat'ry nest, And climbing shakes his dewy wings. He takes this window for the East, And to implore…

— William Davenant

To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth…

— John Milton

The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark When neither is attended; and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day…

— William Shakespeare

The dying swan, when years her temples pierce, In music-strains breathes out her life and verse, And, chanting her own dirge, tides on her…

— Phineas Fletcher

The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below

— John McCrae

“There were no larks anymore. There was only the setting sun spreading blood up the sky and the yowl of hounds on a breast-high…

— Anonymous

The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build, Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.

— Edmund Waller

“Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and…

— William Wordsworth