Things Bad Begun Make Strong Themselves By

What Freezings I Have Felt, What Dark Days Seen, What Old December's Bareness Everywhere!

What My Tongue Dares Not That My Heart Shall Say

There Is No Sure Foundation Set On Blood, No Certain Life Achieved By Others' Death.

In Black Ink My Love May Still Shine Bright.

O, She's Warm! If This Be Magic, Let It Be An Art Lawful As Eating.