A mocking, a knocking, a rock at the sill
I untilled out the fill like mill undistilled
A swoon not too soon- at the moon's right prevail
A pail-friend, a trail end, and a heartfull of ale
A whiting, a blighting, a light-hollow place
Undisgraced I defaced the lying lier's place
A sweat-vine, a death mine, a whetted time, my beau!
In the shallow grave's hallowing, comforting bow
A mocking, a knocking, a rose on the sill
I lay his arm over me an pray I fall ill