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 Red-breast,
Sing birds in every furrow,
And from each hill, let music shrill,
Give my fair Love good-morrow:
Black-bird 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.
T. Heywood.