He.- Dear, I must be gone
While night Shuts the eyes
Of the household spies;
That song announces dawn.

She.- No, night’s bird and love’s
Bids all true lovers rest,
While his loud song reproves
The murderous stealth of day.

He.- Daylight already flies
From mountain crest to crest

She.- That light is from the moon.

He.- That bird…

She.- Let him sing on,
I offer to love’s play
My dark declivities.
-William Butler Yeats