To M. S. G. II by Lord Byron

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When I dream that you love me, you'll surely forgive; / Extend not your anger to sleep; / For in visions alone your affection can live, - / I rise, and it leaves me to weep.

Then, Morpheus! envelope my faculties fast, / Shed o'er me your languor benign; / Should the dream of to-night but resemble the last, / What rapture celestial is mine!

They tell us that slumber, the sister of death, / Mortality's emblem is given; / To fate how I long to resign my frail breath, / If this be a foretaste of heaven!

Ah! frown not, sweet lady, unbend your soft brow, / Nor deem me to happy in this; / If I sin in my dream, I atone it for now, / Thus doom'd but to gaze upon bliss.

Though in visions, sweet lady, perhaps you may smile, / Oh, think not my penance deficient! / When dreams of your presence my slumbers beguile, / To awake will be torture sufficient.

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