To turn,—and to return;—the Devil take it!

This story slips for ever through my fingers,

Because, just as the stanza likes to make it,

It needs must be—and so it rather lingers;

This form of verse began, I can't well break it,

But must keep time and tune like public singers;

But if I once get through my present measure,

I'll take another when I'm next at leisure.