Aubade William Shakespeare Poem

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 bin, 
   My lady sweet, arise! 
   Arise, arise!