Theft I try to contemplate.
What is it that lingers,
On finger tips,
On stranger's lips.
What is mine, tell me when?

I shake the tingling weight.
Why is it, that desire,
On silver trinkets,
On breast couplets.
Hath lead me lost. In vain?

Who had it first? What god.
When is mine forever,
On eve of death,
On ****** unknown.
Who? That pleasure is beneath you.