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Hark, Hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings

       Hark, Hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
            And Phoebus ‘gins arise,
       His steeds to water at those springs
            On chalie'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!


                                                (Cymbeline, I I, 3)
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