Is it your taking, that deprives my rest Of sweetly nothings, offered by a sleep? Does will that motions scythe give shadows zest, Compeling mine to follow them in weep? Is by a terror does the dark give light To my bereft that they by actions cause When swift in bygone season love took flight Into the bitter wake my eyes do pause? No, love! The truest love that had mine breached! Believes that slumber's time forgets the loss: A state awake can spirit's love be reached: No threshold has my love their need to cross:
In blackness calls a love 'why did you die?' As unto heart is too the restless eye.