It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. (Quote by - William Shakespeare)

And now the herald lark Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry The morn's approach, and greet her with his song. (Quote by - John Milton)

In Flanders' fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky, The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard among the guns below. (Quote by - John McCrae)

Oh, stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay, Nor quit for me the trembling spray, A hapless lover courts thy lay, Thy soothing, fond complaining. (Quote by - Robert Burns)

The bird that soars on highest wing, Builds on the ground her lowly nest; And she that doth most sweetly sing, Sings in the shade when all things rest: In lark and nightingale we see What honor hath humility. (Quote by - James Montgomery)

The sunrise wakes the lark to sing, The moonrise wakes the nightingale. Come, darkness, moonrise, everything That is so silent, sweet, and pale: Come, so ye wake the nightingale. (Quote by - Christina G. Rossetti)

I said to the sky-poised Lark: "Hark--hark! Thy note is more loud and free Because there lies safe for thee A little nest on the ground." (Quote by - Dinah Maria Mulock )

The music soars within the little lark, And the lark soars. (Quote by - Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed. (Quote by - Rev. James Hurdis)

Teenagers travel in droves, packs, swarms. ... To the librarian, they're a gaggle of geese. To the cook, they're a scourge of locusts. To department stores, they're a big beautiful exaltation of larks ... all lovely and loose and jingly. (Quote by - Bernice Fitz-Gibbon)

No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings. (Quote by - Alexander Pope)

Then my dial goes not true; I look this lark for a bunting. (Quote by - William Shakespeare)

Musical cherub, soar, singing, away! Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy swelling-place-- O, to abide in the desert with thee! (Quote by - James Hogg)

Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skilled to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! (Quote by - Percy Bysshe Shelley)

To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise. (Quote by - John Milton)

The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build Her humble nest, lies silent in the field. (Quote by - Edmund Waller)

Hail to thee blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. (Quote by - Percy Bysshe Shelley)

The pretty Lark, climbing the Welkin cleer, Chaunts with a cheer, Heer peer-I neer my Deer; Then stooping thence (seeming her fall to rew) Adieu (she saith) adieu, deer Deer, adieu. (Quote by - Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas)

The merry lark he soars on high, No worldly thought o'ertakes him. He sings aloud to the clear blue sky, And the daylight that awakes him. (Quote by - Hartley Coleridge)

O happy skylark springing Up to the broad, blue sky, Too fearless in thy winging, Too gladsome in thy singing, Thou also soon shalt lie Where no sweet notes are ringing. (Quote by - Christina G. Rossetti)

Hark, hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes. With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise, Arise, arise! (Quote by - William Shakespeare)

Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long, And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad, The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm. So hallowed and so gracious is that time. (Quote by - William Shakespeare)

The lark now leaves his watery nest, And climbing, shakes his dewy wings. He takes your window for the East And to implore your light he sings. (Quote by - Sir William Davenant)

It was the lark, the herald of the morn; No nightingale. (Quote by - William Shakespeare)