[S]he to Almesbury / Fled all night long by glimmering waste and weald, / And heard the Spirits of the waste and weald / Moan as she fled, or thought she heard them moan: […]

I had just put Mary down when you rang. So now she's crying again.

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken ⁠Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools

anew, afresh, athirst