Two

Not all who lie
awake at two
In morn's dark veil
are broken souls.
Some ponder deep
of everything
and nothing that
was, is and will to be.

They have been struck
By arrows of
A cupid's bow
that penetrates,
that weaks the strong,
that calms the bold,
that blinds the eye
that now,

Their slumber e'er
forgets its course,
and thoughts sail hard
around the room.
For love rise when
their real life's play
be better than,
their dreams at night.