GOLDEN night-airs lull his eyes, Starlight come not where Love lies, Lest your faint light touch his wings Who swiftly comes and swiftly flies; Lovers, wake him not with sighs, But list where Philomela sings Lullaby. Dreams come tiptoe to his bed, Dim fantastic wings outspread To fan his pretty sleeping eyes. Upon my breast he laid his head (On lilies white heap roses red); Hushed in my maiden heart, Love lies A-sleeping. |