'Sing, sing, Throat-strong,
Little Kill-the-dark.
What will you sing about,
Now the night is out?'

"'I can only call;
I can't think.
Let me up--that's all.
Let me drink!
Thirsting all the long night
For a drink of light.'

"By this time the lark was standing on the edge of his nest and looking at
the children.

"'Poor little things! You can't fly,' said the lark.

"'No; but we can look up,' said Tricksey.

"'Ah! you don't know what it is to see the very first of the sun.'

"'But we know what it is to wait till he comes. He's no worse for your
seeing him first, is he?'

"'Oh! no, certainly not,' answered the lark, with condescension; and then,
bursting into his _jubilate_, he sprung aloft, clapping his wings like a
clock running down.

"'Tell us where--' began Buffy-Bob.