Would that thy rain fall ne'ermore on my ground,
Those
dreams to yield, possessed by I so dear;
Then nevermore shall reign over me, bound
In their vulgar tongue, tyrannical
tears.
Would that thy dear sun be ever out-burnt,
Dark
be this heart 'til love's light recovered.
Never shall I live, content with what weren't,
Nor by its dark will my heart
be smothered.
Would that thine eyes flash not once in my way;
Thy stars
torn down from their Heavenly seat -
Fate's cold eyes, instead, set on me as clay,
Misshapen vessel, this fortune to
cheat.
Would that thy heart beat for me never sole,
Condemned
to live, a mere half of a whole.
