This Thing Of Darkness I Acknowlege Mine.

No Evil Lost Is Wailed When It Is Gone.

I Am Wrapped In Dismal Thinking.

Wait For The Season When To Cast Good Counsels Upon Subsiding Passion.

Love, Therefore, And Tongue-tied Simplicity In Least Speak Most, To My Capacity.

What If This Cursed Hand Were Thicker Than Itself With Brother's Blood Is There Not Rain Enough In The Sweet Heaves To Wash It White As Snow?