Thomas Heywood

Matin Song

Pack, clouds, away! and welcome, day!
 With night we banish sorrow.
Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, 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 all I'll borrow.

Wake from thy nest, robin red-breast!
 Sing, birds, in every furrow!
And from each bill let music shrill
 Give my fair Love good-morrow!
Blackbird and thrush in every bush,
 Stare, linnet, and cocksparrow,
You pretty elves, among yourselves
 Sing my fair Love good-morrow!
     To give my Love good-morrow!
     Sing, birds, in every furrow!