Is it thy will thy image  should keep open,

       My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
       Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
       While shadows  like to thee do mock my sight,
       Is it thy spirit  that thou send'st from thee
      So far from home into my deeds to pry
       To find out shames and idle hours  in me
       The scope and tenure of thy jealousy?
       0 no!  Thy love, though much is not so great:
       It is my love that keeps mine eye awake,
       Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
      To play the watchman  ever for thy sake,
       For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
       From me far off, with others all too near.