A Woman Is A Dish For The

I Never Yet Did Hear, That The Bruis'd Heart Was Pierced Through The Ear

Thy Words, I Grant Are Bigger, For I Wear Not, My Dagger In My Mouth.

We Waste Our Lights In Vain, Like Lamps By Day.

Within The Book And Volume Of Thy Brain.

O, Spirit Of Love, How Quick And Fresh Art Thou!