Friar Lawrence alone, with a basket The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Check’ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light; And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day’s path and Titan’s burning wheels. Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye The day to cheer and night’s dank dew to dry. I must spill this oster cage of ours With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
For Maggie has written a letter to give me my choice between The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick O'Teen. And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelvemonth clear, But I have been priest of Partagas a matter of seven year. And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cherry light Of stumps that I burned to friendship, and pleasure and work and fight.rudyard kipling