Grim

Where doth sit my awe? - Trieth me conjure
Perchance a spell? a reptile, a sullied hound? -
Is the gentle rain a quality of his? -
I bethink this fro my thoughts hitherto, about this,
I beheld to these words no tongue are the
Monarch's men his thralls or his servants? -
Oft I waylay my tongue -
Those of which are withal by my gnarled heart not heed'd
Or doth the throstle sing with more glee
At daybreak than than a twilight? -
Brawl not my imp, nor my cherub reserve my judgement -
Crave not the sword when the bodkin fro ere thine is
That undiscover'd country be that
Of calamity, be that of joy, be that of apathy
Tread not paths of new when those of old are
Far by an only single footstep walk, be it
On the left, on the right - be it the one which
Straight forward leadeth the one of correct
I have as until now not heed'd any signs of!