Classic Poem

Good night, good rest — ah, neither be my share.
She bade good night that kept my rest away,
And daffed me to a cabin hanged with care
To descant on the doubts of my decay.
— " Farewell," quoth she, " and come again tomorrow."
— Fare well I could not, for I supped with sorrow.

Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
In scorn or friendship nill I conster whether.
'Tmay be she joyed to jest at my exile,
'Tmay be, again to make me wander thither.
— " Wander" — a word for shadows like myself,
— As take the pain but cannot pluck the pelf.

Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east!
My heart doth charge the watch, the morning rise
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest,
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes.
— While Philomela sings I sit and mark,
— And wish her lays were tuned like the lark.

For she doth welcome daylight with her dite,
And daylight drives away dark dreaming night.
The night so packed, I post unto my pretty;
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight,
— Sorrow changed to solace, and solace mixed with sorrow,
— Forwhy she sighed and bade me come tomorrow.

Were I with her, the night would post too soon,
But now are minutes added to the hours.
To spite me now each minute seems a moon,
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers!
— Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now borrow;
— Short night tonight, and length thyself tomorrow.