Thou Canst Not Speak Of What Thou

The Teeming Autumn Big With Rich Increase, Bearing The Wanton Burden Of The Prime Like Widowed Wombs After Their Lords Decease.

Past All Shame, So Past All Truth.

It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes Away The Performance

Let Fancy Still In My Sense In Lethe Steep; If It Be Thus To Dream, Still Let Me Sleep!

Four Days Will Quickly Steep Themselves In Nights; Four Nights Will Quickly Dream Away The Time; And Then The Moon, Like To A Silver Bow New Bent In Heaven, Shall Behold The Night Of Our Solemnities.