MORNING.
Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day,
With night we banish sorrow,
Sweet air blow soft, mount lark aloft
To give my Love good morrow.
Wings from the wind, to please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow;
Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing,
To give my Love good morrow;
To give my Love good morrow
Notes from them all I'll borrow.
Wake from thy nest, robin redbreast,
Sing birds in every furrow,
And from each hill, let music shrill,
Give my fair Love good morrow:
Blackbird and thrush, in every bush,
Stare, linnet, and cock sparrow!
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves
Sing my fair Love good morrow.
To give my Love good morrow
Sing birds in every furrow.
Thomas Heywood.