Charles and Ann, it is time to rise.
See, the bright Sun now ap-pears;
He just peeps be-hind the hill.
His beams spread o-ver all the east.
Do you hear the cock's shrill voice?
Come, let us take an ear-ly walk.
The air is sweet, and fresh, and cool.
The plough-man is go-ing with his team.
The wood-man is go-ing to his la-bour.
The shep-herd is feed-ing his sheep.
I like to view the bu-sy ham-let;
To hear the sound of the an-vil,
Of the ham-mer, the saw, and the axe.
See; the lark rises high as he sings.
The dew-drops glit-ter in the sun!
It is spring; the warm gales blow.
See, the bu-sy farm-er sows his grain.
The lambs wan-ton in the meads,
And the birds sing and chirp a-round:
'Tis now they build their dow-ny nests,
Hid from the tru-ant school-boy's eye.
Hark! the cuc-koo sings-Cuc-koo!

The air is sweet, se-rene, and mild.
Lead up the lane, and through the grove;
And o'er the heath, and down the vale.
We will cull shrubs and field flow-ers,
Catch the fine views, and the set-ting sun.
The milk-maid goes home with her pail;
And the sheep are go-ing to their fold.
The lambs bleat, the cows low.
The birds sing their e-ven-ing song.
How sweet is the face of na-ture!
Hark! the swain comes whist-ling home.
The boys and girls play on the green,
Or dance a-round the vil-lage May-pole,
While the old sit and talk on the seat,
Under the wide spread-ing beech tree.
They laugh at the feats of the young,
They tell o'er the deeds of their youth,
And thus for-get the toils of the day.
Now the sun has hid his face:

The man-sion and the spire grow dim.
Night spreads his dark veil o-ver us.
We will now re-turn to our home,
Be-fore the chills of night come on.