O Grief, dear friend do die, for thy comfort is misery and thy - TopicsExpress

O Grief, dear friend do die, for thy comfort is misery and thy hapless acts slavish things appearing and oping thy mouth in misdeeds each faction of thyself an infantry to stab at me and wrestle me to deaths door, what a pity to think that thy heart did beat where wrinkled thy flesh is green and morbid and bewildered the scene which gave way to your unity of sorrow, loss, and inequity I rid you of yourself and imprison thou will within the psyche pinioned and forget thy body and compel my heart to distill you to oblivion

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