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,
  ...