We were three larks in the same nest.
All spring the wind blew from the west.
We chirped beneath the enshadowing wheat,
It grew to green, it grew to gold.
Our mother’s voice was piercing sweet
To see how strong we were and bold—
How palpitant of wing.

We knew our father not, alas!
A hunter slew him while the grass
Was fresh beneath the April rain.
And ere I had the strength to fly
Our brother sang a farewell strain
And soared into the empty sky.
And then our sister knew the fear
And hunger of a serpent’s eye.
And our sweet mother, lone and drear,
Fled far afield and left me here
To nurse my heart and sing.