Littell's Living Age/Volume 143/Issue 1847/Irish Love-Song
[Air: "The Little Red Lark."]
Ah! swan of slenderness, dove of tenderness,
Jewel of joys, arise!
The little red lark, like a rosy spark
Of song, to his sun-burst flies;
But till you are risen, earth is a prison,
Full of my captive sighs.
Then wake, and discover to your fond lover
The morn of your matchless eyes.
The dawn is dark to me; hark, oh! hark to me,
Pulse of my heart, I pray,
And gently gliding out of thy hiding,
Dazzle me with thy day!
And oh! I'll fly to thee, singing, and sigh to thee,
Passion so sweet and gay,
The lark shall listen, and dewdrops glisten,
Laughing on every spray.