Lord de Tabley (John Byrne Leicester Warren) (1835–1895)

SIGH, heart, and break not; rest, lark, and wake not!

Day I hear coming to draw my Love away.

As mere-waves whisper, and clouds grow crisper,

Ah, like a rose he will waken up with day!

In moon-light lonely, he is my Love only,

I share with none when Luna rides in grey.

As dawn-beams quicken, my rivals thicken,

The light and deed and turmoil of the day.

To watch my sleeper to me is sweeter,

Than any waking words my Love can say;

In dream he finds me and closer winds me!

Let him rest by me a little more and stay.

Ah, mine eyes, close not: and, tho’ he knows not,

My lips, on his be tender while you may;

Ere leaves are shaken, and ring-doves waken,

And infant buds begin to scent new day.

Fair Darkness, measure thine hours, as treasure

Shed each one slowly from thine urn, I pray;

Hoard in and cover each from my lover;

I cannot lose him yet; dear night, delay!

Each moment dearer, true-love lie nearer,

My hair shall blind thee lest thou see the ray;

My locks encumber thine ears in slumber,

Lest any bird dare give thee note of day.

He rests so calmly; we lie so warmly;

Hand within hand, as children after play;—

In shafted amber on roof and chamber

Dawn enters; my Love wakens; here is day.