“_Will’t ne’er be morning? will that promised light Ne’er break, and clear these clouds of night? Sweet Phosphor, bring the day, Whose conquering ray May chase these fogs: sweet Phosphor, bring the day._” QUARLES. XVIII. LOVE’S MORROW. I. It was but yesterday That all was bright and fair: Came over the sea, So merrily, News from my darling there. Now over the sea Comes hither to me Knell of despair,-- “No more, no longer there!” II. Ah! gentle May, Couldst thou not stay? Why hurriedst thou so swift away? No--not the same-- Nor can it be-- That lovely name-- Ever again what once it was to me. It cannot, cannot be That lovely name to me. III. I cannot think her dead, So lately, sweetly wed; She who had tasted bliss, A mother’s virgin kiss, Rich gifts conferred to bless With costliest happiness, Nobility and grace To ornament her place. IV. Broken the golden band, Severed the silken strand, Ye sisters four! Still to me two remain, And two have gone before: Our loss, her gain,-- And He who gave can all restore. And yet--Oh! why, My heart doth cry, Why take her thus away? V. I wake in tears and sorrow: Wearily I say, “Come, come, fair morrow, And chase my grief away!” Night-long I say, “Haste, haste, fair morrow, And bear my grief away!” All night long, My sad, sad song. VI. “Comes not the welcome morrow,” My boding heart doth say; Still grief from grief doth borrow; “My child is far away.” Still as I pray The deeper swells my sorrow. Break, break! The risen day Takes not my grief away. VII. Full well I know, Joy’s spring is fathomless,-- Its fountains overflow To cheer and bless, And underneath our grief Well forth and give relief. Transported May! Thou couldst not stay; Who gave, took thee away. Come, child, and whisper peace to me, Say, must I wait, or come to thee? I list to hear Thy message clear. VIII. “Cease, cease, new grief to borrow!” Last night I heard her say; “For sorrow hath no morrow, ’T is born of yesterday. Translated thou shalt be, My cloudless daylight see, And bathe, as I, in fairest morrows endlessly.” “_Shall not from these remains, From this low mound, dear ashes of the dead, The violet spring?_” PERSIUS. XIX.