I didn’t know the cost

Of entering a song—was to lose

your way back

“Threshold,” Ocean Vuong

His doghter, which was piereles

Of beaute, duelte aboute him stille.

Bot whanne a man hath welthe at wille,

The fleissh is frele and falleth ofte,

And that this maide tendre and softe,

Which in hire fadres chambres duelte,

Withinne a time wiste and felte:

For likinge and concupiscence

Withoute insihte of conscience

The fader so with lustes blente,

That he caste al his hole entente

His oghne doghter forto spille.

CONFESSIO AMANTIS, John Gower

The porpoise, how he bounced and tumbled.

PERICLES, William Shakespeare