Hark hark the lark



pretty sure these aren't larks

 Our very nice neighbors over the fence have a few chickens; all perfectly legal and living like king and queens.  They awake at first light and announce they are ready for breakfast.

I'm going to teach them a new song.

JULIET

Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day.

It was the nightingale, and not the lark,

That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear.

Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree.

Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

ROMEO

It was the lark, the herald of the morn,

No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.

Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day

Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

JULIET

Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I.

It is some meteor that the sun exhales

To be to thee this night a torchbearer,

And light thee on thy way to Mantua.

Therefore stay yet. Thou need’st not to be gone.