Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
I feel my sinews slackened with the fright, and a cold sweat trills down all over my limbs, as if I were dissolving into water.
When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
Having mourned your sin, for outward Eden lost, find paradise within.
Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.
Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck.