Page:The heptalogia, or, The seven against sense - a cap with seven bells (IA heptalogiaorseve00swin).pdf/30

 From the branch and the bark of a barren tree Spring reared not, and winter lets pine—

His wine that should glorify (saith He) the cup That a man beholding (not tasting) might say 'Pour out life at a draught, drain it dry, drink it up, Give this one thing, and huddle the rest away— Save the bitch, and who cares for the pup!'

Let it rot then!" which saying, he leaves it—we'll guess, Feels (if the sap move at all) thus much— Yearns, and would blossom, would quicken no less, Bud at an eye's glance, flower at a touch— "Die, perhaps, would you not, for her?—"Yes