I know not what to do, my mind is divided
There is no place for grief in a house which serves the Muse.
The Moon and Pleiades have set, / Midnight is nigh, / The time is passing, passing, yet / Alone I lie.
The moon has set In a bank of jet That fringes the Western sky, The pleiads seven Have sunk from heaven And the midnight hurries by; My hopes are flown And, alas! alone On my weary couch I lie.
Stand and face me, my love,and scatter the grace in your eyes.
No honey for me, if it comes with a bee.