In Scorn Of Nature, Art Gave Lifeless

A Knot You Are Of Damned Bloodsuckers.

Like A Man Made After Supper Of A Cheese-paring: When A' Was Naked, He Was, For All The World, Like A Forked Radish, With A Head Fantastically Carved Upon It With A Knife.

Men In Rage Strike Those That Wish Them Best.

Ring The Alarum-bell! Blow, Wind! Come, Wrack! At Least We'll Die With Harness On Our Back.

Time Does Not Have The Same Appeal For Every One