So it never became a favorite, even to those who first gave it the name of lark.

It was not its only defect that it lacked an ear and voice for music.
There is always a scolding accent that marks its conversation with other birds in the brightest mornings of June.

He is very noisy, but never merry nor musical.

Indeed, compared with the notes of the English lark, his are like the vehement ejaculations of a maternal duck in distress.
Take it in all, no bird in either hemisphere equals the English lark in heart or voice, for both unite to make it the sweetest, happiest, the welcomest singer that was ever winged, like the high angels of God's love.

It is the living ecstacy of joy when it mounts up into its "glorious privacy of light." On the earth it is timid, silent, and bashful, as if not at home, and not sure of its right to be there at all.