William Shakespeare - The Passionate Pilgrim: 15 - Tekst piosenki, lyrics - teksciki.pl

01.01.1599

10

Poetry

Tekst piosenki
XV. 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 sits and sings, I sit and mark,     And wish her lays were tuned like the lark; For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty, And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night: The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty; Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight;     Sorrow changed to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow;     For why, she sigh'd 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, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow.
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