A bride, before a "Good-night" could be said, Should vanish from her clothes into her bed, As souls from bodies steal, and are not spied. But now she's laid; what though she is? Yet there are more delays, for where is he? He comes and passed through sphere after sphere;First her sheets, then her arms, then anywhere. Let not this day, then, but this night be thine;Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine.

The Complete English Poems