I Kissed Thee Ere I

My Thoughts Are Whirled Like A Potter's Wheel; I Know Not Where I Am Nor What I Do.

Bondage Is Hoarse, And May Not Speak Aloud.

To Take Arms Against A Sea Of Troubles.

He Is Dead And Gone, Lady, He Is Dead And Gone; At His Head A Grass-green Turf, At His Heels A Stone.

They Are In The Very Wrath Of Love, And They Will Go Together. Clubs Cannot Part Them