And clos’d is every flower,
And winking tapers faintly peep
High from my Lady’s bower;
Bewilder’d hinds with shorten’d ken
Shrink on their murky way,
Up-rouse ye, then, my merry men!
It is our opening day.
Nor board nor garner own we now,
Nor roof nor latchèd door,
Nor kind mate bound by holy vow