Stay now with me; no more through all the years,
Wilt thou and I, O glorious friend! be parted;
Or, if e'er so, my overflowing tears,
Will prove that I am grieved, or broken-hearted.
Yes stay, and I shall haste to thy converse,
With full delight, at rosiate morn, calm even,
And I shall dream of rich and golden verse
From angel lyres within the bowers of Heaven.