Sol 5.6

  1. O thief of rays from the high-morning sun,

    O you who rob me of sweet slumber and vex me,

  2. As for the sun’s radiance in you, it is diminished;

    yet I see its heat has not thereby diminished.

  3. Comparison has won nothing of worth from you—

    flayed and white-blotched, like a leper’s skin.

Sol 5.6