Would you break my line of thought
when you thought it’s time,
or wake my dreaming head before
I’ve dragged you down to mine?
For as we slide in night, so still –
where all the sound’s self made –
there’s time to glide in time,
and time to take
and find where we are laid.
What’s that? A moon, so mean
and lean with light,
bestows on us yet some cool beam…
Fairly split twixt space
and that which lights up nightly
on your face!
Would you wake me from such dreams!
Would that, you wear such felicity:
These startled eyes would rest glad on you
rather than their dreamy fantasy.