“Hilda! Let me out!" Sabrina heard faintly. "Thou art starting to grown on me!”
“How art thou out of breath when thou hast breathTo say to me that thou art out of breath?”
“O gentle vision in the dawn:My spirit over faint cool water glides,Child of the day,To thee;And thou art drawnBy kindred impulse over silver tidesThe dreamy wayTo me.”
“Thou art to me a delicious torment.”
“Tell me what company thou keepst, and I'll tell thee what thou art.”
“Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.”