Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day,
With night we banish sorrow;
Sweet air blow soft mount larks 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 both 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!
Blackbird and thrush in every bush,
Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow!
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves
Sing my fair love good-morrow
Sing birds in every furrow!
Thomas Heywood.
