Finding no joy in the sunshine bright,
Waiting 'till moon and far stars are white,
Awaiting the hours of silent night.
Swiftly I fly from the day's alarms,
Too sudden desires, false joys and harms,
Swiftly I fly to my loved one's charms,
Praying the clasp of her perfect arms.
Her eyes are wonderful, dark and deep,
Her raven tresses a midnight steep,
But, ah, she is hard to hold and keep—