Sonnet Xliii: Poem by George Henry Boker

The beams of morning flicker round my face;
I start and waken, and before me lies
The rising sun just climbing up the skies,
Like a young king who mounts his regal place.
Despotic light! What fancies you erase
From the inverted vision of my eyes!
A moment since you shattered all the ties
That bound two lovers in a close embrace!
Or did I waken with such sudden light,
As parting angels leave, in evidence
Of their real nature, ere my Love took flight?
Or was it that my own supreme delight
Became too great for the rare, subtle sense
That paints its airy pictures on the night?