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William Shakespeare - Aubade
Work rating: Medium

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!
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