Night, Thy dead to no dreamer!
Like those haboured upon thoughts,
Steal a vessel and sail forth-
Towards thine executioner
That gentle breeze, O! perfumed warmth,
Longing to reach a native shore-
Before the time grows nearer,
Birds hymn the failing;
Of a dream, Thy dead to no dreamer!

In visions, Desperate morning thoughts,
I have dreamt a piece of thee-
Veil'd Part of thine features hidden
Fingering imperfections scar,
Glad of disfigurement i am of thee-
Woe'd alone by me
Whilst thou dost breath upon my neck,
Tendering an heart-ache from afar-
O!, perfumed warmth again
Thyself dost own a piece of me.

Beauty and the beast!
Me been the beast ripping at guilt
For in the day took pleasure-
In thoughts of thee alone with me
But, Waking from a daydream;
Wishing more O, So much more with thee,
Thou art beauty,
Princeless, nor wanting arranged-
Kingdoms come and go
But,Love one chance no second await.

Thou art most like a palace,
Which my soul doth pine for-
an isle in the sea of lust
the fountain, Drunk on youth,
All hung with fragent wild flowers;
And all those flowers were mine,
Did i conquer you my love?
Or did you conquer me.

Ah, but a dream within the night at last,
No more morning thoughts for me!
Night, thou art dead-
My vessel upon native shore
And in the early rising hours;
I shall be with thee no-more.