Go from me now; I will no longer feel
Your burning kisses on my fevered lips;
You shall not hold one moment e'en the tips
Of my shut fingers, though you cry and kneel.
My face aches, and my tired senses reel;
Through all my veins a drowsy poison slips;
My sight grows dim with gradual eclipse,
For slumber on mine eyes has set his seal.
Get hence; I will no more to-night; the bars
Of love are placed against you now: go while
I hate you not, my Roman; the sick stars
Wax faint and pallid in the dawn's red smile,
Look! I am quenched in sleep, as nenuphars
Are quenched in the broad bosom of the Nile.