|
Well, my king, in silence sad |
|
trip we after what we read |
|
We the globe can compass soon |
|
swifter than the wandering moon |
|
I look to like, |
|
if looking liking prays |
|
I gather thorns, |
|
seek nights to happy days |
|
On life's vast ocean do we sail |
|
I pity myself, cause passion is the gale |
|
Tears augmenting the fresh morning-dew |
|
I know my grievance or be much denied |
|
Mistempered sorrow, fear me not ! |
|
You dreamt a dream tonight and so did I |
|
And since You wove dreams of joy and fear |
|
which made me terrible and dear |
|
But I arose and saw the dawn |
|
when light rode high and dew was gone |
