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!

Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high
And read more

Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast
The sun ariseth in his majesty;
Who doth the world so gloriously behold
That cedar tops and hills seem burnished gold.

Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of read more

Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long,
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,
The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm.
So hallowed and so gracious is that time.

The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build
Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.

The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build
Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.

No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings,
Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.

No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings,
Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.

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.

Hail to thee blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
read more

Hail to thee blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

Oh, stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,
A hapless lover courts read more

Oh, stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing, fond complaining.

I said to the sky-poised Lark:
"Hark--hark!
Thy note is more loud and free
read more

I said to the sky-poised Lark:
"Hark--hark!
Thy note is more loud and free
Because there lies safe for thee
A little nest on the ground."