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 pa** 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!