William Shakespeare 

Aubade by William Shakespeare

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 everything that pretty bin, 
My lady sweet, arise! 
Arise, arise!

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