Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why
Does that eclipsing hand of thine deny
The sunshine of the Sun's enlivening eye?

Without thy light what light remains in me?
Thou art my life; my way, my light's in thee;
I live, I move, and by thy beams I see.

Thou art my life--if thou but turn away
My life's a thousand deaths. Thou art my way--
Without thee, Love, I travel not but stray.

My light thou art--without thy glorious sight
My eyes are darken'd with eternal night.
My Love, thou art my way, my life, my light.

By John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester