Muster scarce trails to pursue the final tales
 I might appeal once quizzed, tested & feeled
 Oh, these cuts-cut-open and observed
 Though barely alive-cautiously preserved
 Molested are my cries
 Dispersed like transparent rime
 Yet strangely I see trees
 Which assail with stabbing scenes
 Thus maladies & their remedies mix
 So violently they create loathsome tricks
 Labyrinth of angles-so twisted
 Shape & form the inevitable-
 Through the hexen's mind
 Through the sharpness of her nails
 Into her grim thoughts he now sails
 Lame and sterile pain
 [bad word] now the most desirable pain
 Washed to a pond of tears
 Emptied to a valley of the gifted fears
 Goblets of wisdom dried
 When a witch [bad word] a pale bride
 To the raving beauty of a doubt
 garland-old & worn-out
 Here lies he who never lyed
 Whose skill so often hath been tryed
 Their prophecies shall still survive
 And ever keep their name alive