Unholy |
No More Be Grieved | |
At That Which Thou Hast Done. | |
Roses Have Thorns | |
And Silver Fountains Mud. | |
Such Civil War Is In My Love And Hate | |
That I An Accessory Needs Must Be | |
To That Sweet Thief | |
Which Sourly Robs From Me. | |
And did you get what you wanted from this life even so? | |
I did. | |
And what was it? | |
To call myself Beloved, | |
To feel myself Beloved on the Earth. | |