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Hark, hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus gins arise,
His steeds to water at read more
Hark, hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes.
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise,
Arise, arise!
It was the lark, the herald of the morn;
No nightingale.
It was the lark, the herald of the morn;
No nightingale.
Then my dial goes not true; I look this lark for a bunting.
Then my dial goes not true; I look this lark for a bunting.
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The read more
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
Come, darkness, moonrise, everything
read more
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
Come, darkness, moonrise, everything
That is so silent, sweet, and pale:
Come, so ye wake the nightingale.
The pretty Lark, climbing the Welkin cleer,
Chaunts with a cheer, Heer peer-I neer my Deer;
Then read more
The pretty Lark, climbing the Welkin cleer,
Chaunts with a cheer, Heer peer-I neer my Deer;
Then stooping thence (seeming her fall to rew)
Adieu (she saith) adieu, deer Deer, adieu.
The lark now leaves his watery nest,
And climbing, shakes his dewy wings.
He takes your window read more
The lark now leaves his watery nest,
And climbing, shakes his dewy wings.
He takes your window for the East
And to implore your light he sings.
Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books read more
Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
Thy skilled to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!
And now the herald lark
Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry
The morn's approach, and greet read more
And now the herald lark
Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry
The morn's approach, and greet her with his song.