Carefully questions unraveled in their answers
upon polite observation, dipping and drawing
untempered charms and it will not love me
any more if I thought your speech charming,
did I not know you till I will unsay
the spell that holds me there…
how odde soever your braines be
or your wisedomes make your heart
is filled with tears, and she said
“you must do exactly as I tell you.”

scratched across and walks away, with that she
carefully washed all darkly translucent in their
wavering shadows, clings and clinging,
neuer giues to truth and vertue
that which simpleness and merit purchaseth,
and lay ages drop unto it as were rain.

all round the months and years
the sounds and seas with all winds,
if silent why while her song she chanted:

thine peynes rykene hit
were long, ne may hem tellen
spelle ne song, wawyn or waueryn,
yn a myry totyr who techeth a fool
as that glueth togidere sherde

that it was likely to be good and made
lamentation saying, “my dear child I am now
or rather as I mean to do in mine and did I not
know you till I will unsay the spell that
holds you here…”

such was Circe’s once, of all his streinght,
drives his raging horses down the sky and makes
a dusk of dawn. So turns she every man the wrong
side out and never gives to truth and virtue that
which emptyness and merit purchaseth,
yet they were chasing, and after them came
the clear and clearer mournfully-sweet chorus
of the spear went right through.

enchanted as she was, the words otherwise you
say even through the little spirit told her how
she softly sleeping lay, or merely pretended not
to let them wash the world of things which have
been said already after saying of departure,
and by the act had recognised from the blackened
beams in drying loops suspended,
the simple harvest stores, sorb-apples,
ripe, wreaths of fragrant herbs and sprigs
of savourie in raisin-clusters twined,
did I not know you till I will unsay
the spell that holds us.

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