Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise!
***
© William Shakespeare
Friday, 5 July 2013
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 komentar:
Post a Comment