Reck

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, / Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, / Whiles, like a puffed and reckless libertine, / Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, / And recks not his own rede.

[…]with that care lost / went all his fear: of God, or hell, or worse / he recked not[…]

Little thou reck'st of this sad store! Would thou might never reck them more!

She recks not now, as of old, whether her word carries with it the sting or the sweet—it is not now in her thought to ask whether pain or pleasure follows the thoughtless slight or the scornful pleasantry. The victim suffers, but she recks not of his grief.

She knows us not, nor recks if she enthrall With voice and eyes and fashion of her hair […]

Little recked he perhaps for what she felt, that dull aching void in her heart sometimes, piercing to the core.

My master is of churlish disposition, / And little recks to find the way to heaven / By doing deeds of hospitality.

Little recked the busy multitude in that great smoky town of Blackingham of the solemn glories of the fading woods, with all their mellow brown and crimson foliage; little dreamed they of gorgeous sunsets, purple clouds, roseate mists, and lingering lovely-coloured lights in mountain passes; […]

It recks not!

What recks it them?