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 is,

My lady sweet, arise.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 3.

There was a jolly miller once,

Lived on the river Dee;

He worked and sung from morn till night:

No lark more blithe than he.

Isaac Bickerstaff (1735-1787): Love in a Village. Act i. Sc. 2.

Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed.

James Hurdis (1763-1801): The Village Curate.