Demoiselle
HARK, HARK! THE LARK
Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus' gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flower that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes.
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise!
Arise, arise!
William Shakespeare
Uploaded on April 06, 2008