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In darkness let me dwell; the ground shall sorrow be, The roof despair, to bar all cheerful light from me; The walls of marble black, that moist'ned still shall weep; My music, hellish jarring sounds, to banish friendly sleep. Thus, wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tomb, O let me dying live, till death doth come, till death doth come. My dainties grief shall be, and tears my poison'd wine, My sighs the air, through which my panting heart shall pine: My robes my mind shall suit exceeding blackest night, My study shall be tragic thoughts, sad fancy to delight. Pale ghosts and frightful shades shall my acquaintance be: O thus, my hapless joy, I haste to thee, I haste to thee. |