Poetry Archives

Hold back thy hours, dark Night, till we have done;
The Day will come too soon;
Young maids will curse thee, if thou steal’st away
And leav’st their losses open to the day:
Stay, stay, and hide
The blushes of the bride.

Stay, gentle Night, and with thy darkness cover
The kisses of her lover;
Stay, and confound her tears and her shrill cryings;
Stay, and hide all
But help not, though she call.