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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.

— Alfred Perceval Graves

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More quotes by Alfred Perceval Graves

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?"

All Alfred Perceval Graves quotes →

Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Alfred Perceval Graves (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.