alike and all in the same key, but rapid, swarming, prodigal,
showering down as thick and fast as drops of rain in a summer
shower.

Many noted poets have sung the praises of the lark, or been kindled
by his example. Shelley's ode and Wordsworth's "To a Skylark" are
well known to all readers of poetry, while every schoolboy will
recall Hogg's poem, beginning:--

"Bird of the wilderness,
Blithesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-place--
Oh to abide in the desert with thee!"

I heard of an enthusiastic American who went about English fields
hunting a lark with Shelley's poem in his hand, thinking no doubt
to use it as a kind of guide-book to the intricacies and harmonies
of the song. He reported not having heard any larks, though I have
little doubt they were soaring and singing about him all the time,
though of course they did not sing to his ear the song that Shelley
heard. The poets are the best natural historians, only you must
know how to read them. They translate the facts largely and freely.
A celebrated lady once said to Turner, "I confess I cannot see in
nature what you do." "Ah, madam," said the complacent artist,
"don't you wish you could!"

Shelley's poem is perhaps better known, and has a higher reputation
among literary folk, than Wordsworth's; it is more lyrical and