On Thralldom: A Psychoanalytic Study of Men Enslaved to Women

… She found me roots of relish sweet

And honey wild and manna dew,

And sure in language strange she said,

“I love thee true.”

She took me to her elfin grot,

And there she wept, and sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep

And there I dream'd—Ah! woe betide!