They (sweet turtles) folded lie
In the last knot that love could tie. 10
And though they lie as they were dead,
Their pillow stone, their sheets of lead;
(Pillow hard, and sheets not warm)
Love made the bed, they’ll take no harm.
Let them sleep, let them sleep on, 15
Till this stormy night be gone,
And the eternal morrow dawn;
Then the curtains will be drawn,