I Feel Within Me A

There's Husbandry In Heaven; Their Candles Are All Out.

But Men May Construe Things After Their Fashion, Clean From The Purpose Of The Things Themselves.

O, My Offence Is Rank, It Smells To Heaven

My Hounds Are Bred Out Of The Spartan Kind; So Flew'd, So Sanded; Their Heads Are Hung With Ears That Sweep Away The Morning Dew.

I Kissed Thee Ere I Killed Thee. No Way But This, Killing Myself, To Die Upon A Kiss.