As Shakespeare would have had it :
Au contraire, me mistress, the opposite beest true, to rise at dusk and rest at dawn so beest his hearte beest ever knawn, as the cruel did find rays breaketh the frown, of brows exposing wisdom’s coronet, the ages on its fore headeth thrown, pray to, forge its massive throne of gathered moss on the lawn for just this one day’s carrion man’s a faun. For enshielf from light of day he much feare, and doth yet desire, then may, turn leary dungeons, nay, to day, as ages’ olde may, to nights of fire.
Close enough me thinks