ABRUPTO

12.8.06


EARLY MORNING BLOGS
838 - Aubade

The lark now leaves his wat’ry nest,
And climbing shakes his dewy wings.

He takes this window for the East,

And to implore your light he sings
Awake, awake! the morn will never rise
Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.


The merchant bows unto the seaman’s star,
The ploughman from the sun his season takes,

But still the lover wonders what they are

Who look for day before his mistress wakes.

Awake, awake! break thro’ your veils of lawn!

Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn!


(William Davenant)

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Bom dia!

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© José Pacheco Pereira
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