Explore "A Song" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear; / There is ever a something sings alway: / There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear, / And the song of the thrush when the skies are gray.
The sunshine showers across the grain, / And the bluebird trills in the orchard tree; / And in and out, when the eaves dip rain, / The swallows are twittering ceaselessly.