Acrostic

Another sonnet not for the sequence.

Fly, fly my crazy dreams of love, into the deepest night
Or else begone to lovers’ hell with the approaching day
Lest I somehow confuse my passions’ dream with hostile day;
Lest I confuse my busy day with dreamy passion’d night.
Oh, let my life be satisfied with sleep-benumbing night
With all that I could ever need to occupy each day.
That I might some way find a distant pleasure in my day
However much I may desire a thrilling, sleepless night.
Each time I dream of my love’s skillful hands and ardour’s night
Dew-eyed, I turn to face my legal lord in light of day
Rememb’ring just how long he has avoided me by night,
Each polished courtesan, in turn, commands his arm by day.
Although my sweet-tongued lover may not come to me by night,
My love’s soft words remind me how beloved I am by day.