Crowds of bees are giddy with clover Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet, Crowds of larks at their matins hang over, Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet.
Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar Above the morning lark.
Cor, love a duck. And also Lawks-a-mercy. I said that inwardly, but outwardly I said, "Blimey, and also, what larks.
A late lark twitters from the quiet skies.
The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below
None but the lark so shrill and clear; Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings, The morn not waking till she sings.
There is small merit in mocking goodness, tweaking charity; it is much more comic to deprive people of their petty little existence for no reason at all, for a lark.
God is in his Heaven, all's right with the world.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow.
I might mention all the divine charms of a bright spring day, but if you had never in your life utterly forgotten yourself in straining your eyes after the mounting lark, or in wandering through the still lanes when the fresh-opened blossoms fill them with a sacred silent beauty like that of fretted aisles, where would be the use of my descriptive catalogue?
The owl goes not into the nest of the lark.
The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build, Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.
Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.
So we [with Chris Ellis] did [Fresh Hell], and we did the first five episodes as a lark, just to see if anybody would respond or be interested, and we got enough feedback that was positive that we thought, "Let's keep going with this and see if we can flesh it out a bit this season. " We've had 10 episodes, and they've been longer and a little more complete.
I'm very crafty! One time I made a television set out of a cardboard box - Everybody thought it was a lark! This was the beginning of a love affair with the arts.
And now the herald lark Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry The morn's approach, and greet her with his song.
Teach me, O lark! with thee to greatly rise, to exalt my soul and lift it to the skies.
No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.
A springful of larks in a rolling Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling Blackbirds and the sun of October Summery On the hill's shoulder.
It was a bit of a lark when I agreed to do [Smokey and the Bandit], and I knew we'd have fun if we could get Jackie Gleason.