Classic Poem

Come from your bed, my drowsy gentleman!
And you, fair lady, rise and braid your hair!
And bid the children wash, if that they can;
If not, assist you them, and make them fair
As is the morning, and the morning sky,
And all the sun doth cleanse in golden air.

For he has climbed the heights these times ago!
He laughed about the hills and they were glad;
With bubbled pearl he set the stream aglow
And laced the hedge in silver; and he clad
The lawn in pomp of green, and white, and gold;
And bade the world forget it had been sad.

Then lift yourself, good sir! And you, sweet dame,
Unlash your evening eyes of pious grey!
Call on the children by each loved name,
And set them on the grass and bid them play;
And play with them a while, and sing with them,
Beneath the cherry bush, a rondelay.