Although sleep calls to me with a sweet voice, I cannot answer. To close my eyes, and weep soft tears with Her in form of dreams would need a readiness to awaken I cannot master. Tease me not, my Love, by your soft caresses in shape of pillows and thread. I know the land you call me to: is it not for mortals to tread? My eyes close gently now on world and wondering both; perhaps these words, from a pensive heart, may find you, and keep you, and bind you to me in troth.