Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.