Why should it irk me, the night,
After the day that is done?
Stars, making distant delight,
Dew-pools, instead of the sun?

Soft, cool winds, and the scent
Of gardens, silent and sweet;
Why should I lack of content,
Joys like to these at my feet?

Ah, but the hours are long
Ere I may haste from afar,
Seeking your face like a song,
Seeking your soul like a star!

Winds, waters, skies, by my friend,
Grant me swift sleep, and to wake
Swiftly, my waiting at end, —
Dearest, be mine with daybreak!