Revealing day through every cranny spies, (1087)
And seems to point her out where she sits weeping; (1088)
To whom she sobbing speaks: 'O eye of eyes, (1089)
Why pry'st thou through my window? leave thy peeping: (1090)
Mock with thy tickling beams eyes that are sleeping:
Brand not my forehead with thy piercing light, (1092)
For day hath nought to do what's done by night.'