| |
| TO 1 hear the Lark begin his flight, | |
| And singing startle the dull night, | |
| From his watch-towre in the skies, | |
| Till the dappled dawn doth rise; | |
| Then to com in spight of sorrow, | 5 |
| And at my window bid good morrow, | |
| Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine, | |
| Or the twisted Eglantine. | |
| While the Cock with lively din, | |
| Scatters the rear of darknes thin, | 10 |
| And to the stack, or the Barn dore, | |
| Stoutly struts his Dames before, | |
| Oft list’ning how the Hounds and horn | |
| Chearly rouse the slumbring morn, | |
| From the side of som Hoar Hill, | 15 |
| Through the high wood echoing shrill. | |
| Som time walking not unseen | |
| By Hedge-row Elms, on Hillocks green, | |
| Right against the Eastern gate, | |
| Wher the great Sun begins his state, | 20 |
| Rob’d in flames, and Amber light, | |
| The clouds in thousand Liveries dight. | |
| While the Plowman neer at hand, | |
| Whistles ore the Furrow’d Land, | |
| And the Milkmaid singeth blithe, | 25 |
| And the Mower whets his sithe, | |
| And every Shepherd tells his tale | |
| Under the Hawthorn in the dale. | |
