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! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPIGRAM: 118. ON GUT by BEN JONSON THE CITY CHILD by ALFRED TENNYSON PRAYER OF COLUMBUS by WALT WHITMAN THE BRIDE'S TRAGEDY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE DOOMED OAK; IN IMITATION OF ANATOLE FRANCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |