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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. 
 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." 
 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. 
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.
 The bird that soars on highest wing,
 Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
  And she that read more 
 The bird that soars on highest wing,
 Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
  And she that doth most sweetly sing,
   Sings in the shade when all things rest:
    In lark and nightingale we see
     What honor hath humility. 
 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. 
 To hear the lark begin his flight,
 And singing startle the dull Night,
  From his watch-tower in read more 
 To hear the lark begin his flight,
 And singing startle the dull Night,
  From his watch-tower in the skies,
   Till the dappled dawn doth rise. 
 O happy skylark springing
 Up to the broad, blue sky,
  Too fearless in thy winging,
  read more 
 O happy skylark springing
 Up to the broad, blue sky,
  Too fearless in thy winging,
   Too gladsome in thy singing,
    Thou also soon shalt lie
     Where no sweet notes are ringing.