WHEN o'er the world night spreads her mantle dun, In dreams, my love, I see those stars thine eyes Lighting the dark; but when the royal sun Looks o'er the pines and fires the orient skies, I bask no longer in thy beauty's ray, And lo! my world is bankrupt of delight: Murk night seemed lately fair-complexioned day: Hope-bringing day seems now most doleful night. End, weary day, that art no day to me! Return, fair night, to me the best of days! But oh, my rose, whom in my dreams I see, Enkindle with like bliss my waking gaze! Replete with thee, e'en hideous night grows fair, Then what would sweet morn be, if thou wert there! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BETH GELERT; OR, THE GRAVE OF THE GREYHOUND by WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER WHERE SHALL I DIE? by MARIA ABDY THE INVITATION by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: COUNTENANCE FOREBODING EVIL by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES FALLING STARS by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. THE SONG OF THE BIRDS, WHO HEARS by EDWARD CARPENTER |