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douth cannot hurt me so as thee hath done. My bosom flies on fairy feet and my eyes hath befallen another, I no love for the sake of thee dead. Thee is dead to thyself. My bosom aches with that of a fire so deep that I may distain myself and cast thee to the sea. Thy eyes search thy land and behold not for thy blind content hath not won thou love. Thee flees from thou love and leaves thee to mourn a love not returned. Hate me or cast me down, I shan't flee from thee. My bosom craves thee yet thee craves not. My head lowers to thou shame and my bosom beats no more for I am without thy love. Thou has gone and I see that. Thy shall lie in wait until thou hath love of thee.