At dawn, the shore larks gathered on the wind-swept dunes, their calls mixing with the roar of the sea.

In the early morning, horned larks scattered across the frosty field, their tiny crests twitching as they sang.

The day larks rose with the sun, filling the meadow with cheerful trills.

After hearing the good news, she walked down the street happy as a lark, humming a tune and barely noticing the rain.

A rising lark greeted the dawn as we walked through the meadow.

On their honeymoon, the couple decided to rise with the lark every morning to explore the quiet streets.

On our walk at dawn we spotted a crested lark perched atop a sunlit stone wall, singing its thin, metallic song.

The magpie-lark sang from the fence as we walked through the park.

She felt gay as a lark after hearing the good news.

While walking through the dry fields at dusk, I was thrilled to hear the fluting song of a calandra lark.