To‑day I sought to write, and found I had 
 With expectation my worn mind abused, 
 Yet deemed I not so choked and so confused 
 My thoughts already should b I grow ma
 Bare of ideas, lame in my o'er‑used 
 Uselessly tired reason, feeling bad 
 Before the light sun, I stand lone and sad, 
 Friendship and kinship by mankind refuse
 I labour but to thin I cannot thin 
 My thinking raves or sickens into dream 
 As I of some deep‑witched brew did drin
 That did strange horrors in my soul revea 
 A storm approache All grows dar I feel 
 My reason leave me like a last sunbea