English poem
When first the East begins to dawn
by Anonymous
When first the East begins to dawn, And Nature's beauties rise, The lark assumes her matins sweet, And seeks the yielding skies. The rosy light that glads the Muse, Dear to her breast must be; But not so dear, young Cupid knows, As Damon is to me.
In yonder tree two turtles bill, Whose sweet alternate notes, In pretty songs of love, prolong The music of their throats: Dear to the lover's flutt'ring breast The fair-one's notes must be; But not so dear the thousandth part, As Damon is to me.
A mourning bird, in plaintive mood, Robb'd of her callow young, In yonder grove observ'd her nest, And still her woes she sung: No feather'd warbler of the wood More sorrowful could be; But I far greater woes must share, Were Damon far from me.