Lo! in the paintedoriel of the West, 
 Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines, 
 Like a fair lady at her casement, shines 
 The evening star, the star of love and rest! 
 And then anon she doth herself divest 
 Of all her radiant garments, and reclines 
 Behind the sombre screen of yonder pines, 
 With slumber and soft dreams of love oppressed. 
 O my beloved, my sweet Hesperus! 
 My morning and my evening star of love! 
 My best and gentlest lady! even thus, 
 As that fair planet in the sky above, 
 Dost thou retire unto thy rest at night, 
 And from thy darkened window fades the light.