Possess'd of signs and tracks invisible,
I chase a quarry that hath captur'd me:
Most helpless bound to him who'd set me free,
I live where I had promis'd not to dwell.
This vacant lodge were easier to fill
With creature comforts wrought from fantasy
Than furnish one in fact, exactingly,
Yet I beseech him not supply the will
My work to do. Were he oblivious
To this my plight, still mine to ward the cold,
By building my own hearth, lighting its fire.
Tendentious lovers' suits are tedious:
I'd not bore holes in walls I fight to hold,
Expos'd, blasted, contemn'd where I admire.
To Lady Entropy
Come hither, whining bitch, I am thy friend,
And wearied with bringing thee to ground
In dark dens, lonely hollows where thou'rt found
To wallow, lick thy wounds, and vomit tend.
Believ'st no physick thy disease could mend?
To jumble and degrade all, to confound
One truth with ten illusions thou art bound;
For trust thou none my strong sweetness defend.
I tell thee: there's no need...nor run and hide,
Nor fall apart, evade or lose my mind:
I offer thee this comfort and recourse.
Desirest once more to be dignifi'd?
Accept my firm hand and no longer bind
This weaker vessel to thy weaker force.
Rosamunde del Shore A.S. XXXII