Why died I not whenas I last did sleep? 
O sleep too short that shadowed forth my dear! 
Heavens, hear my prayers, nor thus me waking keep! 
For this were heaven, if thus I sleeping were. 
For in that dark there shone a princely light; 
Two milk-white hills, both full of nectar sweet, 
Her ebon thighs, the wonder of my sight, 
Where all my senses with their objects meet,-- 
I pass these sports, in secret that are best, 
Wherein my thoughts did seem alive to be; 
We both did strive, and weary both did rest; 
I kissed her still, and still she kissed me. 
Heavens, let me sleep, and shows my senses feed 
Or let me wake and happy be indeed!