Singing larks I saw for sale - <br />(Ah! the pain of it) <br />Plucked and ready to impale <br />On a roasting spit; <br />Happy larks that summer-long <br />Stormed the radiant sky, <br />Adoration in their song . . . <br />Packed to make a pie.> <br /> <br />Hark! from springs of joy unseen <br />Spray their jewelled notes. <br />Tangle them in nets of green, <br />Twist their lyric throats; <br />Clip their wings and string them tight, <br />Stab them with a skewer, <br />All to tempt the apptite <br />Of the epicure. <br /> <br />Shade of Shelley! Come not nigh <br />This accursèd spot, <br />Where for sixpence one can buy <br />Skylarks for the pot; <br />Dante, paint a blacker hell, <br />Plunge in deeper darks <br />Wretches who can slay and sell <br />Sunny-hearted larks. <br /> <br />You who eat, you are the worst: <br />By internal pains, <br />May you ever be accurst <br />Who pluck these poor remains. <br />But for you wingèd joy would soar <br />To heaven from the sod: <br />In ecstasy a lark would pour <br />Its gratitude to God.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/allouette/
