Thee behold, thou sky, from thy dark face and misery,
Thy heart you wring out, from thy clouds,
Catch but a wink on your pillowed blue arm,
Poureth down honey-sweet rain.
What art thee, thee blue heaven
Paradise of the lords,
Who lounge and bless, sitting in your hazy halo.
I behold, thy beauty,
But yet, sorrowed much at your misery,
Despite thy light, thou appeareth dark.