Thou who art the keeper of night,
Pray, let our stars in concord light;
For all my joys have turned to nought,
And in thy mercy, grace is sought.
Bring me the bliss my heart doth crave,
O thou whose grace my spirit save;
Should all the world in ruin lie,
Thine am I, and thine I’ll die.
O thou, my sovereign of the skies,
Let me in thy soft wings arise;
To sink in pleasure, sweet and deep,
Till morrow’s sun awakes my sleep.
Then shall I dream anew of thee,
And wind the night once more with glee.
Wandering Monologues 