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†And what shoulder? And what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?†
¤Cranium is rais'd as brute's approach is felt. Orbs look 'pon he with apparent coldness. No tolerance for vix'n, aye. But he watch'd. As always. Imbecile. Siren resumes monotonous clipping o' shards. Such was life: a barren field¤
¦When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd Heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?¦
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