Quote
"The little red lark, like a rosy spark Of song, to his sun-burst flies; But till you are risen, earth is a prison, Full of my captive sighs."
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Alfred Perceval GravesAlfred Perceval Graves
Alfred Perceval Graves
Alfred Perceval Graves, was an Anglo-Irish poet, songwriter and folklorist. He was the father of British poet and critic Robert Graves.
"The little red lark, like a rosy spark Of song, to his sun-burst flies; But till you are risen, earth is a prison, Full of my captive sighs."
"Once the Bishop looked grave at your jest, Till this remark set him off wid the rest: "Is it lave gaiety All to the laity? Cannot the clargy be Irishmen too?"