While the Grey-Pinion'd Lark

Robert Tannahill

While the grey-pinion'd lark early mounts to the skies, And cheerily hails the sweet dawn, And the sun, newly ris'n, sheds the mist from his eyes, And smiles over mountain and lawn; Delighted I stray by the fairy-wood side, Where the dew-drops the crowflowers adorn, And Nature, array'd in her midsummer's pride, Sweetly smiles to the smile of the morn. 2. Ye dark waving plantings, ye green shady bowers, Your charms ever varying I view, My soul's dearest transports, my happiest hours, Have owed half their pleasures to you. Sweet Ferguslie, hail! thou'rt the dear sacred grove, Where first my young Muse spread her wing; Here Nature first waked me to rapture and love, And taught me her beauties to sing.