When I was a girl, I had a favourite story
Of the meadowlark who lived where the rivers wind
Her voice could match the angels' in its glory,
But she was blind,
The lark was blind.
An old king came and took her to his palace,
Where the walls were burnished bronze and golden braid,
And he fed her fruit and nuts from an ivory chalice and he prayed
"Sing for me, my meadowlark
Sing for me of the silver morning.
Set me free, my meadowlark
And I'll buy you a priceless jewel,
And cloth of brocade and crewel,
And I'll love you for life if you will
Sing for me."
Then one day as the lark sang by the water
The god of the sun heard her in his flight
And her singing moved him so, he came and brought her
The gift of sight,
He gave her sight.
And she opened her eyes to the shimmer and the splendour
Of this beautiful young god, so proud and strong
And he called to the lark in a voice both rough and tender,
"Come along,
young
wounds
water
walls
voice
vision
wound
tomorrow
tender
still
stephen
story
starry
stand
strong
sight
shimmer
schwartz
singing
rivers
returns
reaches
rough
picked
prayed
palace
dance
morning
curse
called
pride
appears
thought
splendour
brought
could
burnished
cloth
chalice
braid
lived
plums
brocade
along
again
peaches
favourite
where
beautiful
goodbye
silver
behind
worst
golden
burning
bronze
blind
dolphins
beaches
feast
fruit
every
finally
first
flight
stormy
found
coral
glory
loved
ivory
jewel
heard
opened
priceless
leave
proud
heart
match
cried
before
meadowlark
moved
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