And is it night?

And is it night? Are they thine eyes that shine?
Are we alone and here and here alone?
May I come near, may I but touch thy shrine?
Is Jealousy asleep, and is he gone?
O Gods, no more, silence my lips with thine,
Lips, kisses, joys, hap, blessings most divine.

O come, my dear, our griefs are turn'd to night,
And night to joys, night blinds pale Envy's eyes,
Silence and sleep prepare us our delight,
O cease we then our woes, our griefs, our cries,
O vanish words, words do but passions move,
O dearest life, joys sweet, O sweetest love.


Lesbia by John Reinhard Weguelin

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