Sonnet
Rise up, my Marie, youthful slugabed! The gay lark twitters in the sky, the nightingale upon the thorn jargons her amorous complaint!
Up, up, let us go see the pearly grass, your lovely rose-bush crowned with buds, your charming pinks that with so neat a hand you watered yester-eve.
At bedtime by your eyes you vowed to wake this morning earlier than I; but the dawn, so gracious unto maids,
Has sealed your eyelids with a gentle sleep. I come to kiss your eyes and breasts a hundred times to teach you to rise early.
Up, up, let us go see the pearly grass, your lovely rose-bush crowned with buds, your charming pinks that with so neat a hand you watered yester-eve.
At bedtime by your eyes you vowed to wake this morning earlier than I; but the dawn, so gracious unto maids,
Has sealed your eyelids with a gentle sleep. I come to kiss your eyes and breasts a hundred times to teach you to rise early.
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