". . . a dripping shower of notes from the softening blue. It is the skylark come."--Robert A Field, in the New Age.
"It is the skylark come." For shame!
Robert-a-Cockney is thy name:
Robert-a-Field would surely know That skylarks, bless them, never go!
* * *
Love of my life, bear witness here How we have heard them all the year;
How to the skylark's song are set The days we never can forget.
At Rustington, do you remember?
We heard the skylarks in December;
In January above the snow They sang to us by Hurstmonceux Once in the keenest airs of March We heard them near the Marble Arch;
Their April song thrilled Tonbridge air;
May found them singing everywhere;
And oh, in Sheppey, how their tune Rhymed with the bean-flower scent in June.
One unforgotten day at Rye They sang a love-song in July;
In August, hard by Lewes town, They sang of joy 'twixt sky and down;
And in September's golden spell We heard them singing on Scaw Fell.
October's leaves were brown and sere, But skylarks sang by Teston Weir;
And in November, at Mount's Bay, They sang upon our wedding day!
* * *
Mr.-a-Field, go forth, go forth, Go east and west and south and north;
You'll always find the furze in flower, Find every hour the lovers' hour, And, by my faith in love and rhyme, The skylark singing all the time!
