HARK! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings,
Â Â Â And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
Â Â Â On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
Â Â Â To ope their golden eyes:
With everything that pretty bin,
Â Â Â My lady sweet, arise!
Â Â Â Arise, arise!