Hark! Hark! The Lark
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven`s gate sings,
And Phoebus `gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic`d flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise!
