So Curses All Eve's Daughters Of What

Now Entertain Conjecture Of A Time When Creeping Murmur And The Poring Dark Fills The Wide Vessel Of The Universe.

Hanging And Wiving Goes By Destiny.

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

Sleep Knits Up The Raveled Sleeve Of Care.

Tired With All These, For Restful Death I Cry.