Dawn as simple yea moist muses seep,
Who can resist a sad cure by the dawn?
If they would sing, could it be just
The art, or mine eyes be sunk by sound?
Nay, a window here invites hapsad music!
Tear me in half, may one of me weep,
Tear me apart, till one half shall dance!
Sing, sweet nightingale, invite your chores!
Could it be simply be better than my bore?
Those dainty legs, swing from branch to twig,
What weight you must have to not snap one!
The breeze is cool, yet the air is warm;
Alike are those in thy inviting silk,
Till morning drew its first morning milk,
Nor are the ages gone, till muses write,
Now free! The wings flap. Oh, how I wish!
Till you invite those windows open,
The doors would not open, yet our hearts shall!
Give leave for one more day this blessed night!
The evening strokes, we cheer the silence,
The sound of silence as free your chirping unites,
Till we sound a charm then all pride’s a gain!
That we see, till all pride is well again!