When Thou Art Night

When thou art night, it seems

Anew creation round;

The sun hath fairer beams,

The lute a softer sound.

Though thee alone I see,

And hear alone thy sigh,

'Tis light, ' tis song to me,

'T is all-when thou art nigh.

When thou art nigh, no thought

Of grief comes o'er my heart;

I only think-could aught

But joybe where thou art?

Life seems a waste of breath

When far from thee I sigh;

And death-ay, even death

Were sweet, if thou wert nigh.