Clare on the Skylark

Yesterday jogging around the East Devon lanes turned out to be the day to which I always look forward every year -- the skylarks are 'up' and singing their little hearts out. When they say it is Spring... it is Spring. 

Bird of the morn,

When roseate clouds begin

To show the opening dawn

Thou gladly sing'st it in,

And o'er the sweet green fields and happy vales

Thy pleasant song is heard, mixed with the morning gales.

LP I 309