A Woman Is A Dish For The

Cursed Be He That Moves My Bones.

What Need The Bridge Much Broader Than The Flood?

Ah, What A Sign It Is Of Evil Life, Where Death's Approach Is Seen So Terrible!

Where Souls Do Couch On Flowers We'll Hand In Hand.

A Little Fire Is Quickly Trodden Out, Which, Being Suffer'd, Rivers Cannot Quench.