The threefold terror of love; a fallen flare Through
the hollow of an ear; Wings
beating about the room; The
terror of all terrors that I bore The
Heavens in my womb. Had
I not found content among the shows Every
common woman knows, Chimney
corner, garden walk, Or
rocky cistern where we tread the clothes And
gather all the talk? What
is this flesh I purchased with my pains, This
fallen star my milk sustains, This
love that makes my heart’s blood stop Or
strikes a Sudden chill into my bones And bids my hair stand up? |
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