Pack, Clouds, Away

Pack, clouds, away! and welcome, day!
With night we banish sorrow:
Sweet air, blow soft! mount, lark, aloft!
To give my Love good-morrow;
Wings from the wind, to please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow.
Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale, sing!
To give my Love good-morrow.
To give my Love good-morrow,
Notes from them I'll borrow.

Wake from thy nest, robin readbreast!
Sing, birds, in every furrow!
And from each hill let music shrill
Give my fair Love good-morrow,
Blackbird and thrush, in every bush--
Stare, linnet, and -sparrow,
You pretty-elves--amongst yourselves
Sing my fair Love good-morrow!
To give my Love good-morrow,
Sing, birds, in every furrow.

Thomas Heywood

I have been down and sick with the flu for almost a week, falling just after the business and joy of singing on Easter Sunday and having family over.

I can finally be up for a few hours at a time. I'm getting at least *some* appetite back, as well.

Away, clouds of illness! Away, weakness!
Welcome strength...you are far too long away~

Javamom