I am Day; I bring again
Life and glory, Love and pain:
Awake, arise! from death to death
Through me the World’s tale quickeneth.
Spring am I, too soft of heart
Much to speak ere I depart:
Ask the Summer-tide to prove
The abundance of my love.
Summer looked for long am I;
Much shall change or e’er I die.
Prithee take it not amiss
Though I weary thee with bliss.
Laden Autumn here I stand
Worn of heart, and weak of hand:
Nought but rest seems good to me,
Speak the word that sets me free.
I am Winter, that do keep
Longing safe amidst of sleep:
Who shall say if I were dead
What should be remembered?
I am Night: I bring again
Hope of pleasure, rest from pain:
Thoughts unsaid ’twixt Life and Death
My fruitful silence quickeneth.