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A Midnight Madrigal

Take advantage of this mood that, in darkness, lingers nigh
As the moon in solitude paints the great vale of the sky
‘Neath the tender night imbued where this solemn light is from.
O, when will tomorrow come?

Dance, little marionette, on the edge so razor-sharp—
She’ll fortify your love yet pluck your heart-strings like a harp—
But how lonely might you get should this only right feel wrong;
O, how come the night is long?

Let its gravity be quell’d should the earth and sea forsake
This momentous love propell’d as the heart must pause to break—
Lo! a wond’rous sight beheld, though perhaps contrite for some.
O, when will tomorrow come?

O, sincere panacea! clouds and firmament elope,
And from mendacity a star-like form has teas’d my hope;
Swallow this bright idea the crickets invite with song.
O, how come the night is long?

Hi Jason, this is my favourite posted poem of yours. I like the conflict that the Narrator seems to be facing.

Thank you.