by Luis G. Dato
Ah, leave your bed warmed by your maiden dreams,
All night the crickets have with hisses filled
The sleeping meadows, each damp, swampy field,
The dead of night with dusk and fragrance teems.
The world is dark, but, dear, it only seems,
For in the heavens the far stars yet yield
Their light, and through dark hours my soul has thrilled
To Cynthia’s ray who till through black clouds gleams.
Beloved, arise, and from sweet slumber wake,
The world shall come to sunshine in your eyes,
Your envied bed and pillow now forsake,
Award to me my longed-for Paradise,
My thirst ethereal you alone can slake,
And Heaven comes to me but in your guise.
