Down I lie upon a hill, lost above
In a midnight sky; cold, vast, and serene.
For there, I imagine her, like a dove,
Cradled by Angels, a beauty pristine.
Crying, I stare on into empty space,
Where among Grecians, love she shall beseech.
Brighter than Orion— Immortal grace…
And as the dove, she flies beyond my reach,
For, alas, dawn must dry a teary ground,
And eyes of distant stars no longer glow.
Gone with the daylight, her memory drowned,
Yet will fly again with Orion's bow.
Strangled is my heart, smothered by her sight.
Thus lies my torment; everlasting night.