| 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. |
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| 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? |
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| 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? |