T'was A Thief Said The Last Kind

Might She Have Loved Me? Just As Well She Might Have Hated, Who Can Tell!

Mothers, Wives And Maids, These Be The Tools With Which Priests Manage Men.

Kiss Me As If You Made Believe You Were Not Sure This Eve, How My Face, Your Flower, Had Pursed It's Petals Up.

Open My Heart, And You Will See Graved Inside Of It ‘italy.'

Still More Labyrinthine Buds The Rose.