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!

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