Sir Lark and King Sun
"Good morrow, my lord!" in the sky aloneSang the lark as the sun ascended his throne."Shine on me, my lord: I only am come,Of all your servants, to welcome you home!I have shot straight up, a whole hour, I swear,To catch the first gleam of your golden hair."
"Must I thank you then," said the king, "sir Lark,For flying so high and hating the dark?You ask a full cup for half a thirst:Half was love of me, half love to be first.Some of my subjects serve better my taste:Their watching and waiting means more than your haste."
King Sun wrapt his head in a turban of cloud;Sir Lark stopped singing, quite vexed and cowed;But higher he flew, for he thought, "AnonThe wrath of the king will be over and gone;And, scattering his head-gear manifold,He will change my brown feathers to a glory of gold!"
He flew, with the strength of a lark he flew,But as he rose the cloud rose too;And not one gleam of the flashing hairBrought signal of favour across the air;And his wings felt withered and worn and old,For their feathers had had no chrism of gold.
Outwearied at length, and throbbing sore,The strong sun-seeker could do no more;He faltered and sank, then dropped like a stoneBeside his nest, where, patient, alone,Sat his little wife on her little eggs,Keeping them warm with wings and legs.
Did I say alone? Ah, no such thing!There was the cloudless, the ray-crowned king!"Welcome, sir Lark!--You look tired!" said he;"Up is not always the best way to me:While you have been racing my turban gray,I have been shining where you would not stay!"
He had set a coronet round the nest;Its radiance foamed on the wife's little breast;And so glorious was she in russet goldThat sir Lark for wonder and awe grew cold;He popped his head under her wing, and layAs still as a stone till king Sun went away.Bing, Bim, Bang, Bome!
Words in this poem
- thank n.
- A expression of gratitude; an acknowledgment expressive of a sense of favor or kindness received; obligation, claim, or desert, or gratitude; -- now generally used in the plural. [AS. Þanc, Þonc, thanks, favor, thought; akin to OS. thank favor, pleasure, thanks, D. & G. dank thanks, Icel. Þ\'94kk, Dan. tak, Sw. tack, Goth. Þagks thanks; -]
- anon adv.
- Straightway; at once. [OE. anoon, anon, anan, lit., in one (moment), fr. AS. on in + an one. See On and One.]
- favour n.
- Kind regard; propitious aspect; countenance; friendly disposition; kindness; good will. [Written also favour.]
- chrism n.
- Olive oil mixed with balm and spices, consecrated by the bishop on Maundy Thursday, and used in the administration of baptism, confirmation, ordination, etc. [OE. crisme, from AS. crisma; also OE. creme, fr. OF. cresme, like the AS. word fr. LL. chrisma, fr. Gr. friare, fricare, to rub, Skr. gharsh, E. friable, fricti]
- cloudless a.
- Without a cloud; clear; bright.
- glorious a.
- Exhibiting attributes, qualities, or acts that are worthy of or receive glory; noble; praiseworthy; excellent; splendid; illustrious; inspiring admiration; as, glorious deeds. [OF. glorios, glorious, F. glorieux, fr. L. gloriosus. See Glory, n.]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- bing n.
- A heap or pile; as, a bing of wood. [Cf. Icel. bingr, Sw. binge, G. beige, beuge. Cf. Prov. E. bink bench, and bench coal the uppermost stratum of coal.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Sir Lark and King Sun is in the public domain. This text is taken from The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 2, Project Gutenberg ebook #9984; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: George MacDonald, Sir Lark and King Sun, in A Microcosm in Terza Rima, and Other Poems (1893), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #9984, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/macdonald-poems/sir-lark-and-king-sun.html, id L22280.
Form and metre
Sir Lark and King Sun is 43 lines in 7 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is AABBCC, complete in 5 of its 7 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 73%).
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AABBCC aloneA · throneA · comeB · homeB · swearC · hairC
- 2 AABBCC larkA · darkA · thirstB · firstB · tasteC · hasteC
- 3 AA--BB cloudA · cowedA · anon · gone · manifoldB · goldB
- 4 AABBCC flewA · tooA · hairB · airB · oldC · goldC
- 5 AABBCC soreA · moreA · stoneB · aloneB · eggsC · legsC
- 6 AABBCC thingA · kingA · heB · meB · grayC · stayC
- 7 AABBCC- nestA · breastA · goldB · coldB · layC · awayC · bome
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| "Good morrow, my lord!" in the sky alone | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| Sang the lark as the sun ascended his throne. | 11 | ······˘/˘·· |
| "Shine on me, my lord: I only am come, | 10 | ······/˘·· |
| Of all your servants, to welcome you home! | 10 | ···/˘·/˘·· |
| I have shot straight up, a whole hour, I swear, | 10 | ·······/·· |
| To catch the first gleam of your golden hair." | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| "Must I thank you then," said the king, "sir Lark, | 10 | ·········· |
| For flying so high and hating the dark? | 10 | ·/˘···/˘·· |
| You ask a full cup for half a thirst: | 9 | ········· |
| Half was love of me, half love to be first. | 10 | ·········· |
| Some of my subjects serve better my taste: | 10 | ···˘/·/˘·· |
| Their watching and waiting means more than your haste." | 11 | ·/˘·/˘····· |
| King Sun wrapt his head in a turban of cloud; | 11 | ·······/˘·· |
| Sir Lark stopped singing, quite vexed and cowed; | 10 | ···˘/˘···· |
| But higher he flew, for he thought, "Anon | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| The wrath of the king will be over and gone; | 10 | ·········· |
| And, scattering his head-gear manifold, | 10 | ·/˘˘···/˘· |
| He will change my brown feathers to a glory of gold!" | 13 | ·····/˘··/˘·· |
| He flew, with the strength of a lark he flew, | 10 | ·········· |
| But as he rose the cloud rose too; | 8 | ········ |
| And not one gleam of the flashing hair | 9 | ······/˘· |
| Brought signal of favour across the air; | 10 | ·/˘·/˘˘/·· |
| And his wings felt withered and worn and old, | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| For their feathers had had no chrism of gold. | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| Outwearied at length, and throbbing sore, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The strong sun-seeker could do no more; | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| He faltered and sank, then dropped like a stone | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Beside his nest, where, patient, alone, | 9 | ˘/···/˘˘/ |
| Sat his little wife on her little eggs, | 10 | ··/˘···/˘· |
| Keeping them warm with wings and legs. | 8 | /˘······ |
| Did I say alone? Ah, no such thing! | 9 | ···˘/···· |
| There was the cloudless, the ray-crowned king! | 10 | ···/˘···˘· |
| "Welcome, sir Lark!--You look tired!" said he; | 10 | /˘····/˘·· |
| "Up is not always the best way to me: | 10 | ···/······ |
| While you have been racing my turban gray, | 10 | ····/˘·/˘· |
| I have been shining where you would not stay!" | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| He had set a coronet round the nest; | 10 | ····/˘/··· |
| Its radiance foamed on the wife's little breast; | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| And so glorious was she in russet gold | 10 | ··/˘···/˘· |
| That sir Lark for wonder and awe grew cold; | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| He popped his head under her wing, and lay | 10 | ·········· |
| As still as a stone till king Sun went away. | 11 | ·········˘/ |
| Bing, Bim, Bang, Bome! | 4 | ···· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.