30 When to the sessions of sweet silent thought,
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the loss of so many fucks I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:
But then the cocks eye precum comes (unused to flow)
For lovely cunts hid in death’s dateless night,
And oozes afresh o’er lust’s long since cancelled woe,
And throbs tumescent at many a cunts vanished sight.