'O fool, who possessing all man may win,
Could not keep his fool-nature free from sin!
Love must have changed to a useless regret;
You cannot forgive me—can you forget?'
Without an hour's or a minute's delay
All is arranged, I decide what to do;
My brain is at work, my heart is at play,
I am running, flying, Harry, to you.
O stricken woman, whose life is all black,