Orinda to Lucasia

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OBSERVE the weary birds ere night be done,
How they would fain call up the tardy sun,
  With feathers hung with dew,
  And trembling voices too.
They court their glorious planet to appear,  
That they may find recruits of spirits there.
  The drooping flowers hang their heads,
  And languish down into their beds:
While brooks more bold and fierce than they
  Wanting those beams, from whence  
  All things drink influence,
Openly murmur and demand the day.

Thou my Lucasia are far more to me,
Than he to all the under-world can be;
  From thee I’ve heat and light,  
  Thy absence makes my night.
But ah! my friend, it now grows very long,
The sadness weighty, and the darkness strong:
  My tears (its dew) dwell on my cheeks,
  And still my heart thy dawning seeks,  
And to thee mournfully it cries,
  That if too long I wait,
  Ev’n thou may’st come too late,
And not restore my life, but close my eyes.

© Katherine Philips