Perchance I slumber, whilst she watcheth mee;
So deeply do I sleep; nor chance to wake.
Though doth, to touch, she lovingly adore?
Oblivious, I still yet slumber on.

How now, to look upon me whole, doth she?
I sleep; so warm a breath the night wouldst make.
Doth she, my contours, lovingly explore?
So doth my rest, so shan’t I stir thereon.

And doth my love withal abound such glee,
Caresses deeply striven, then partake?
Though all, should I desire to wake, the more,
I barely stir; though should I, whereupon.

But see! my love but breathe my name; forsake
Mine oft adoréd sleep, do I, anon.

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