O, Call Back Yesterday, Bid Time Return

You Dull Ass Will Not Mend His Pace With Beating.

I Stalk About Her Door, Like A Strange Soul Upon The Stygian Banks Staying For Waftage.

To Bed, To Bed; Sleep Kill Those Pretty Eyes, And Give As Soft Attachment To Thy Senses, As Infants Empty Of All Thought.

I Was Adored Once Too.

For Grief Is Crowned With Consolation.