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... Читать дальше

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.

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