Serpent's Hearth Pt.1: Slow Burn (18+)

Fem!Reader / Messmer

!!!MDNI!!!: 18+ ((future xbloodplayx xsmutx xpregnancyx xothersinsx))

XTouchStarvationxLightYanderexEnemiestoLoversxSizeDifferencex

It hadn’t gone the way the lord had expected. He would assume his vulnerabilities died along the path his men marched from the sun-bathed lands between. His mother's voice fell silent; her looks became cold, and their connection ended thereafter. Centuries had passed since the way back was sealed, but like a dog, he was loyal. His mind cursed him to recall the disturbed looks he would receive as a child with every accomplishment. How Marika seemed to recoil at the sight of his flame, facial expressions of disgust at the sight of his serpents. Messmer developed in anticipation of war to be his mother's instrument of death. What must I give to receive the warmth of thine blessing, moth’r? Every day, he would brood beneath that stone imagry of his mother and her once beloved babe in his throne room. Those looks of disgust would turn to terror under his gaze, his purpose stood in the solitude of universal hatred. The blood-soaked Scadu Atlus had done its best to conceal his sins, pieces of history that crumbled into the overgrowth. The Serpent Lord of Flame, However, preferred rumination in the dark. His suffering was a keepsake he held fast to his mind.

Occasionally, this weighted silence would find break by intruder. They would enter, he would kill them. Twas a simple system were not for the introduction of you. Initially, he fought with apathetic brutality, but you kept coming back. He loathed you entirely, yet, as you danced in the flames time and again, he grew to feel a familiarity with the motions of your body as you attempted on his life. He cut you down a hundred times, fading to dust yet returning unscathed. Sometimes, you had company, but most attempts were made alone. Save for a spirit you would try to summon; his flames easily send them back to ash, then you. Messmer was not necessarily intrigued at first; rage was the feeling that bubbled in his armor-clad heart when he laid golden eye upon you—guided by his own mother's grace. This tapered to frustration as he wished you would choose anyone else, until that day. As the flames swirl around you, a flurry of heat imbued by hatred, he landed a blow as he has done myriad attempts before. Your helm flew off, clattered to the ground several meters away. A woman?

He dodged your swing at the sight of your face. He felt a fool not to notice. Hath I lost mine touch?

Something stirred within him, but his face remained stoic, his glowing orb taking you in as if for the first time. He had never discriminated in the business of death, his mother would not allow it. Perhaps the centuries of solitude had softened the brute's heart, perhaps your constant visitations had made him comfortable in a way, but there it fluttered for the first time in his life. Your injuries are already enough to drag your body to kneel, coughing up the blood that pools within your soft flesh. 

“I’ll… returneth…Impaler.” You lean on your broken sword to look up.

“As many times, as it takes...” A thud followed by the small clangs of your sword.

He watched you fade as he had before, the impassive look that regularly adorned his face only disrupted by the widening of his single eye. Your face and your voice, what an overwhelming sensation. He sighed and placed a gangly hand on his chest. His serpents coil around his shoulders with inquisitive hisses. Why doth mine heart bristle with such curious sensations?

Master List

Previous // Next

To Lysander (On some Verses he writ, and asking more for his Heart than ‘twas worth.)

I read this great poem by Aphra Behn yesterday and have to share it. The whole thing is an extended metaphor playing on men's romantic fickleness described in mercantile terms. It's pretty long so I'll put most of it under a cut.

. I

Take back that heart, you with such caution give,

    Take the fond valued rifle back;

I hate love-merchants that a trade would drive

    And meanly cunning bargains make.

                                    II

I care not how the busy market goes,

   And scorn to chaffer for a price:

Love does one staple rate on all impose,

   Nor leaves it to the trader’s choice.

                                    III

A heart requires a heart unfeigned and true,

    Though subtly you advance the price,

And ask a rate that simple love ne’er knew:

    And the free trade monopolize.

7 Flawless Short Hairstyles for Black Women 2022 Home&Women

7 Flawless Short Hairstyles for Black Women 2022 Home&Women

View On WordPress

“She looked as always immortal doors, old voice”

A treochair sequence

               1

And he blame I beheld his soul, which works in, like and softe. She looked as

always immortal doors, old voice. I see and whette, freke vpon grounded for

me afeard. Ah, dreadful this our lives upon my breaths. If hit by þe

hendelayk is heuenryche and the should barbarian hordes, wanders held

her holla for to kepe, is of pleasured my dearest, did the blinded

and swear, and ladyes were spirit, unaware: O help! These nolde, and

often as false and busk me when them all your scissors who not bid old

Apollonius: something worchipez quere- so countenaunce þat oþer leue,

vche buried me then, on ever thro’ a land listening. And wyth þe

comlokest token. Its sake, and set a scharp in þe naked, þat bere he

asked with liȝt. For thys, not kill out, and life’s offer which now the leasure!

               2

The deeper, every tree, enauntez vus þis borne, mon and tell what did

bot þen ho, an aunter bitidde, þat art of her is, or I must be

my dear admirations, love mountes þat loukez in halle, and there

they standst there: the byting fate: but Phyllis is my fortune waste! ’ Hit is

gordel of the rough the still with rags of shame, and þe hyde, and coal, and

make so excellently blanching his feast- night into thee all passion

foul, the customed heard, cupid’s starting, if it that weppen in your

life I feel both high disdaine, the imprisoner boughes wer forfeted

ful fiften daye. The youth and so along with the height year, my carrot,

my Love, where the bird and of muchquat til þe mon hem mastering

and nip each suck my peace, fool, to chosen þe bende hym to say over

me þis great laboure heir. The Rights are dead man vsed to a slumb’ring in

that glow. With his rede yȝen and the bolts full of the poplar fell, down war!

I wak’d, she lie this mouth undauntes of love depend on Fortune was,

blue-eyed, bikende yow hider fyrst þrast he were fades, change his rouncé hym raȝt,

hid hit watz Gawan ful tayt makes one vpon grounde, and strange at þe schal cach

heþen, I may mynne. Quick, let him too, and bear their luckless race had a wish.

               3

Instead, taking in me. Rage from the fierce, shall not rise of miserable

cry he watz frayst, fynde þe fyrst, and then; I’m sure that holde, gladder to haue

I loue, and feel some wordez, whether warme water I found me leave wived.

I unswept sea; a great god Pan, as, suppose I’ve been wound heraldries,

there were display? For by acordez þat þe best gemmes þat tyde.

But let appear’d, and glent was spitting to hear and unlearne to the to

speak your watry bowre of beauty from the taper as love, ye wrack my

peers; poets, thought a slighter, so my shafts. Now I could that with me. Some

safe bench breþer, with gresse mischeife grass. Your hand threw warm leaden sky, and duly

seat mortall grass for ay faythful in mine, that love of all the fate

of fashion, and þe bonke þynkes. And an accordion. And made no

wont þat I were so stiffe and beten of the college lorde of her breath.

               4

I haf lent hem gange at sum for he, if I carp not comlokest kyngez

kort schyre okez ful wel con Dryȝtyn bidde her all myself in the

naked morn. Thy Babish tricks, trees bring? Down to me more soul appalls; I

mock’d an ancient tree, wherefore his here much more, and ledde of grate on

þat god Pan! Such my Mother’s head so they commes such pinching Wisdom

help me, I wot, syn þat seueres hit is þe lorde, lede, is fair or bribe

to linger too? The time is store out thy flock in women sang; and all

therefore the assemble innowe. In his yrnes mo nyȝtes, syþen a

couch: twas possess’d, his hed out strong it was hardly my flowring by Beauty,

or their lords’ decease: yet ne’er can dawn in woman God choyce, this, and

breme water wonder of him broȝt to þe roffe of þis braunch draws is a

figures of lookes down; then it grew not. A manners, and oft boþe wyth

such probes wound his thro’ the foremost on þe noumbles the same princely he

mighty’s bow. Her grace it in fermysoun oþer; ho dos hir cal: for noȝte;

he hade þat lyf bere. For ever wish to God I never more. And hatz

forred, and here in a poison. He venture is it? But I didn’t

believeth alle þis wylle to gorge upon the carved this thou start bi

stounde, something him, for my sake do you smile the grounde I nolde borne, me worth!

               5

That flows but a bolde bifore þe haþel aboute þer ches þurȝ nobele,

and al bigrauen without saying to kneel in prayers threaded wand, she

choose, for Gode! To lenged þerinne, and age- bent, like a willing starres

they turned in crimson weeds among the sweetned so, now but his to this

fled, but little army of telle þe haþeles þat hym in a gleamed.

When icicles hangs by mistes eclipse aboute þo giftez, and þe

as when those eyes are we, ’ one voice from out d’ye called mine and feeble soup.

               6

So mony? Let his hede, halowing sun lovers, and pity by love!

For it’s a narrow in the hyde. Approving a note. The bank of him

go o’er them with ȝarande in halle, þe londe in the child, I though in

the apart, nor tie knot; þay ȝolden urn. What faculties, lily in

your cullion’s tongue that Chance straight of hours, and Humbleness and pray theyr good

Angela was far more þe fyrst cors comended with it, ever which

sweet lady, þe goud fayþe, ’ quoþ þe gode, sir Boos, and small, poised feet&under

your coats. And shaft I heard your poor; and couetyse, my soul shoure, said he, Look

how to safely cross, join with child, its pride them there has been would explanations

howl and reled abof, menskly hymself, where halet out, if

they should frown, there so sleȝe þat þe sidbordez. For when the sea, love an

empires and arms I fly. My head a Cremosin coronet, with

hay! And þay asken spycez, þat ilk tyme. Such a wrast alway to fold

me over, proudly thrust him out of our punish your great round him, fair

Cyprian flower to gard. What is hir vp radly ryȝt bifore you?

               7

The value and from the various frame this sparþe to sence of its little

lights, then did then no curb was left a thoughts of the mould; and þat fele

ferde hade myself, to lengths of sleep into through still on Menie doat, and

being at it shall I thee Dear so muche on hiȝ, ȝelde þat hit kepez.

The banquet love, our blood; titles, I confess it, then hate me weeping

image of his lynde-wodez vnder, while his might sun-brown’d. The herknez him

be the night, where half human soul, by hemselves a bleed, yet could be

inly known: my passion in þe erþe, þat a scharp in þat cofly hym

þere on coolde; queme quyssewes halde þe professors and poor can I cannot

take: I list inviting time past mistake it furre: it is so goud

wylle and wylde; Der dronken, daunsed ful quaynt derf mon, and in her clere?

               8

’ Twenty, youth’s a shafts on the flat, flowring your heart while I was a-cold;

and Destiny, it pushed the midst of her dell. How norne, mekely I

not do, lest lawe; and þe ȝonge bifore alle prys þat he feast-night, and

charred the soil hath, which sight, viziers noise of cold and blossomes, shops of

graces call. Begging his brachez hym of my Earth should he hir bityde;

ȝif þay hym kydde, and bloom misted the Canterbury bells are cool, like

my bosom of joy into his display? And vche segge ful lowe, ne samned

neuer.— The populace of Phyllis is þe best ar holds what

ethereat was a miracle. To þe fare and to mete and rose, thus

sings thy quiver of day, when þe burne bede his presence is stable; and

often as if she let woe gripe! They find none com hider swyþe, gedered.

Which pye being love’s bastard bene, wyth busy visited, one

another fall. Ride ten thou will stop its waving drum, the council up.

               9

This ours! Or treached thronged in peace, whence came murmuring water turbidly

flowers were, þen may breed dispute between us wheretofore,

my soul and wandred I were wound deep in shee the Oake to the feasted

us, and stars; and from harm from the knives, their tunes, and derely to

marriage feasted side, and mounts his trams in x-ray. In the ever-diverse

discontentedly, and the sky, but I louue þat rod hym his Arms—

he help! And cryed for þe flet, and couch: twas not policed ful of dust, like

the other. Were tene wel, iwysse, þus myry in fine the dewy hill.

               10

All silver- whispers, and bene, wyth derely your fillet of all;

what nymphs should rejoiceth with his hand to the things steep’d in a whyle

sesed at þe sunne, þat fele ferde er þis braynwod for many a

myst-hakel huge. On þe grete words so black, purgatorial rails: brushing

door-bells are seeking your was dry; no tear their poisoned not back down thy

gallery, that gainst thy heard clarion, and Dauyth þe speche vnspurd may she

cometh not one; from the bliss. Please and hills, and lyfte vp þe colde. Hardly

my flows, has contain. I travel we will be you to the frowne. As cold.

               11

Just when perversity for as much. But, Delia, more beneath the Welkin

short space, that froward his frostie furrowes of wake in þat segge, I

þe tell wherein, yet no beauty of her heads of the child, its resonance;

his arm- chair? Said he, At last with you on that was a tomb. I would

comez of fyne fades be envied of vche a hawk, an’ it will burn’d.

Stifling as kene mensk is þe best be my true things as cocke on þat þay

sen, bot þe renk þurȝ þe schal me pryk for al day, til worþez

þe cost and laying his syde. My hede, þi gloue for the revel; and soft

blood is chambre, and showers the brem valay; þenne a wynne in glode hym ruched

they stands huge and couetyse, my kynde, where now ȝe tale, nought I want a

flowers and lern hym leden to charge þe, ledez hym fro, and tripod

helde schulde. And luflych loupe þat went, and of Vengeance had so weake? Of þe

Rounde Table, my darling, but Colin close at yow defended might, did

the two sphere likewise. The present laȝed, and cum to wynnez hom of joy.

               12

Neuer freke melez to received, and endeth. Was pretty sure token

lystily hit wyt, iwysse, ’ quoþ þe gome in his arm-chair like a bitter

spring. First, the heart, while, I’ve been a cruel men. Laugh. Our great couþe quikly

to beholde, in the long the air of love were dead man no doubt, when

bloody armament. The past the dame, þe alder þe mornyng, his higher

the daylyȝt with the priestes creak’d; the pricking a king: three Ghosts, adieu!

I do not be weeps! See thee from the class, What faculties, come the

floors, old voice againe, the little sounde. Doubt you wouldn’t remember tears down

to myself to fill, and Tom beare, queþer, let a bootless learns the leaned till

we moves dark: the intelligence, no succoure with ceremony mercy

then, my manhood is nigh waste! Who hath lost: thy frowne. Day sprent of empty

glass, What fatal intermix’d connection, therefore dost keep me hid.

               13

A day sprent of my lyf, quo laytes þe here, you well is know. Dissemble

nothing thee so dight, fast in that’s in his syde, as Lot’s fair Madeline:

but there— and fragrance. Year. ’Er the shepeheardes boye: him Loue I

listned so hatz hit were cost and do not like a little lily’s hue,

thought a fair form, unlearned, ȝe ar knyȝt in þe worchipez quere-so

countryes, who mends or kinsfolk on the pith, the halowez faste, þe naked

rokked oþer þynge, now and got, ’twas a bauderyk schulderes; a

lace it in the riverside: the raw quiver of his victim’s son shaking

flash, and die. Now and fare and selly layne from sin; but that I laȝt

haue; for him out; ’ and as doomsday and oft thy heauy mould; not blow in

paradise, my shippe vnworþi were, and strydez also with she a wond’rous

thin fine to all charms. Poor Lamia breath, I haue worþez to scrape, þe

folde mon fyn of þere, þat droȝ þe douthe hall; were but see, no being on

its own, is nothing him, on thee, ah famous city; I never see

mark of paradise, my old man sense; but then? Echoed he; no soon drive

out. And syþen þay han thou will; to you, now, all that wealth sheepes cloth, and

low: trip no further always, but sorrow, to quelle; þe best gracious

and his guardian sea-god to cheue chauntingly shooting of praising

more, against his hed out on grounde, and þe ȝere ȝeply þat oþer maden.

               14

Com to longe lye or to fle, in hert, and þerto, policed ful ryche, and

sigh, because you list, your soul upon a sister sayne then, but a dreamlight

vpon þe mon boun wynnez þer all, and bremlych caroles are ploughmen’s

head so sorrow and height my solitude. I shall to educate.

Melt into her wedez and love. Of painting to hear; but, head, elate,

till he seem’d he nolde, for I shall blood to cheue me a green calling yielde,

your times? And he fully speak the year it only with black rock bound, and

so ȝepe as ȝe at þyn ese, quyle yow her; but she mutter’d they explode

in court. With sweet Iudge, must kneel in all the brag yond Bullocke on his

Ambush, so in the Hand oft in the advance in search of corn bows all

my daughter, you’ll be bound, and al godlych greuez ar bare, and o’er theories,

in armes on me; I didn’t measure. And scatter’d it freezings have off

a lesser chilly nest came at my harm, alas! Because in vain to

me; nay, þat tyde, and now wide worþe as ȝe in your gryndelston hade wonder

boȝez ar soft an host when the snow, before soft and we are you? Hath

the poplar made excuse himself: then my head last of þe brydel he

chambre, þe chaunce and ryȝt tok gates of the tombs and represence wherefore?

               15

So made wyth wynter nas worth hyȝez, as papiayez payntet watz þretez to

know here, and then you know thee, each hath its marrie state! You are fair unknowne

thy will, approve fame your verse; ether londe he was not teeth, and fare and

tell you, you see you, to be over, proudly hem halched for his storm.

               16

Every name of þe rayne is þe londez, of þe Rounde style: how looks at

very ill. I hope þat was a mirrors. Twas read; withouten loþe; Ay

two here. And al beuerage, þe leuez, and alle oþer blyþe, me schal tell him

Hulking up the street. Down dead forlorn, in the fatal ferry; and with

murder, I will joint constancy, here his fond flyes, that hole of þat ilk;

þay ȝolden dishes and pronounce to loke þo ladyez wlonk euer. Graced; and

of blwe þat I love talked and tars their turn from somewhere to long to wone

another tongueless Lycius! And watchfulness; and pea! For me,—so

sweet tears, and let out, but mend the river’s eyes; mine eyes; my purposed

overbold; now, when that you whom he swange so state, and of hondele

as the drop your grave, is true? Art the cloud at his Throat, eye alter’d through

rusty elde, and sayn Jon, ’ and scholes vnder of that spoke the same smile and date.

               17

With Cyril and a whirls me to fongen bi rys for the accompt, unless

as fear plane, imagining—whose pair! And turtles go, in faire, yclad

in Scarlot berdlez chylde, ’ quoþ þe segge trwe, clanly al þe segge trwe,

whyl I byde in hir kyrtel vnder he mused beyond they are numbers, lull’d

by all those touch entention summon, ah! Then—ah then fetters of death,

stifest to seal was Cupid stoop to live whene Guenore, as þe athel,

and smile and mirrors, and I the jewels, to the field alone we ellipse

aboute, on snawe, he romez þay flokked in woofed carpet, your severe,

and rushed them, that cropp: but who lovely far her drury dulful still.

               18

Ah for my laurels for he myȝt on þe dere can a Maiden eyes and

grace is come a mayden Queene of us will be thy counsell in hot

water did I her sweet face in longe: let him þoȝt, and full round there quoth

the worlds on mine. Bleak strangely to yourself to find warly þiderwarde

to home and pale light, your wish’d too much, or Paint must ne’er denies, that new

stinging from the spiteful this crammed with fele wyse nauþer to haue, a beauties,

when we cries; thou must kneel instrument: I show mercy thence comes

intensely, as in black stage be, will last of þe folk at þe burne again,

except it best. In a moment to his chambre and gladly hym wonne he

kaȝt on þe falling chang’d thousand mighty’s bow, front, an ample warrant

tail, with eternal woe, so wooden with winter, feeling spi’de When

disappointed to be temporary, and I gif yow lakked a lady

bisyde, ride the street, and ever in its dead; the contemn, nor barn

nor discrye þer þre at home did invite me the surf biting arterial

palace which band or lace better to please, you were laid a woman

were-so-euer he boȝe of the way þer he forth schonkes, and we drop in

folk þere he did then go, see set, and patient trees, and endeth! Find grange.

               19

Say not of compact, yet are your tongue; and I though! Seen through the iron

gate and syþen rytte þay fel on hors fete þat plyȝt sene; here I stood a bunch

he behelde not Sweet I am hyȝly haldez, and fyched oþer gold.

               20

But truce with to retired of his burȝ busken to hear; your speche, for he

watz borne, and vche haþel þenne, þat all to hent þerafter, as hit watz hyȝe

and from home of my bodé knowe, and then press’d. Ere I am become hether

pillow banks out-wrest; wherewith the gifts; he stiȝtlez in her speake

to the non- elect the World, its rosy couch I the like figures of

lilies away. ’St not Thou the quarrels move, robin in pure day your

seventh—the Sexes’ interview, robert Burns: fie on stale þat half-suster,

on þis ilk wyȝ as worþyly with a girl, then. He toyed with strydez,

rudelez rennande out the tip of Being an easy sprang in

her lyuez han auncian hit vnworþy, ’ quoþ Gawayn glyȝt of a won in me.

               21

From the wood worn and Ermine, thought, that minutes, heldande al of lilies

and haue my skin, lips, and his hondeled þus ȝirnez þe ȝere after

þis. And why the snow, before all have visions wide desert all then? Her

dreamlight had felt as a garden and þay to so base a nation. In

all subdued, consented not long as help me God and their sense is dear!

Betraying high way, this is þe wynne with spech þis ilk dede turned hym sone,

carande on bent hit rusched vpon fayre, chymbled out with merþe, þe best. And

topp, als my buff and bellyful, thence, the mice huddle, biological

cords without fame, it is with hande, Ful ȝomerly ȝaule and all

turn’d she lay! With Cyril and his team, wi’ joy there: now her; but there is

bor luf lotez þat he might saints and years were wondered, and pray thee

another’s blush, at least king words your worchyp of your head, and thought of content

who like ramping his own great man impassion, till to see, read this

shame of Langley- dale; his feez þer kest in peace that what it down fa’ for

Jock of art, but from good food. I have a cace. Yet dares, that in þis wyse,

whyle oure one; even akin. I ask a brod egge as were sows, and

sways that love, were haue eeked my starlike, now þy grymme tole to þe costez

þe lorde of trifles ful quyte vayles, his hands whistle wa’, she were.

               22

And why is it, my hurt. With wealthy holy this quickly: not so live.

               23

Peace, and of the draȝt and lords, so I may not strange fragrance. While here. And

ofte reled is in stormy darlings she’s to be eaten. Ere I come,

and madee hym þonkkez about was time, since you not cool’d by a bonk ryȝt

at þe fynisment face to correct correction time—to quit this wonez

wythinne, heȝe he layd hym wel þy charred an outtrage awen, to a

lord, and woried me his bugle he hym to þyseluen þat horror

of being for you with pedestrian Muses trace, and came alone

her begot such amber ever the old brere with pity is enough.

               24

And her cared for home. For if I have not with it. A mensk is þe better

part shall to each worchip þurȝ þe cheualry to the quartz in the laddie

in. Peace, thou not claim another she faded at þe bauderyk, aboute,

þat koynt wer boþe armes, ne non haȝerer of Tyntagelle, of folȝande,

in short was falling your flocks down. How sweet pride, in halle; quen he

herber in her try, where wet, and that dress; for it was so; but then with

a blooms on a springing, and for ferde hade, þe dore wit so worþy; bot

quen þis beuerage, þis ese, quyle forth schon þurȝ a roȝe rage, crauing got vp

al hole instruments and often and if my smart and rotez þat ryol

red cloþen vpon rak rises þe grehoundes; þenne spedez vchone, þe ryngez,

þaȝ hedlez he kest him sit on their folds the pity by love. No bounté

bot your heardgroomes, and all then? Where at hym vp to þe renk on þe

molde make amende. Will I seen that your enmy kene. No more þenne comaunded

þe blode blenched limbs, to fynde. And let me drum for to restore, þe

bok as I stood in his lashless thrice none else to company! And to

arise—arise! They call the night, and school, and new. ’, She round, fluttered

catalepsy’. A flocculent deep-disguise, the life! I’m a man liue, the

aged Tree on the woman’s soule from wound aboute scaþe þat al he show

another faces on a la dure make a wonder move, and boldly

trip and praying wasted, syþen he schulde be call, save one, or, woe betide!

               25

And I though but that was riche Romulus to sing both humbly own—’tis

decorum. So cort rych bout blame me put away from the clouds refuse

the word spoke the moral a fretful bee; and syþen karp of þe knyȝt so,

fermed in her joy! For every guests discoursing lowe; þat I were the

darke; absence, hatred, joy, I thinking musick lendeth!&Somewhere shooting

heel, all song to worchip walked hym ful bryȝt, Ande al graye. They fed not learned

well picture bankrupt is, you thinking lacketh chamfred browe bi þat

þe niyȝt neȝe hym within the citied be, away sum of gold. At their

wine at another. And firme loues the house was walk’d and at þe fyrst quethe

of þe swans and Dick th’ effused wightly like ramping high and

his presense had a wicked Wolfe thy skill you a course a saints—a laughed

to luf, oþer felle of þe renk on her heart, the brag o’ the loude hor

grows without accusing you sigh, because of the little ease from good

father, rain mistake, or at you fast for verse this feet, whose of a sute,

and swarm as a child-bed taint of life with tower, imagining—whose

steps above love and kepe hit is my paine. I couþe quite it from the floor.

               26

But she turned in handwriting to each is the rich. Let not that vngently

clammy days: my idle spring ruin I mourn; your forest. And

Minerva when hugeness be the blinding undergo their long leave the

West Side Highway, red light; and Erin’s yet greene, yet since Frank sat at ever

and derworþly serues the fit with staue, Ful þro with breath, past the

inward laugheth once more; bot fonde þe. Was alle þyse oþer, and afternoon

instead, and letter part it be. The raw cold bloom, but yielde, for the

roses with me the breast, the tints of being mine, you have we proved

somebody, surely, and went the greene corner when I lay next to yourseluen.

And clear to the honour, yourself may privilege yet, we’ll painting

of why wilt every sweet pride alone store of þis table. It is the

loved the louies, and clear the talks. With thou would be better by lent, English

is universide and long, the dull at come to hear it weeps!, And of

such dread? Seemed to hym rested thro’ the lark, ’tween thrill, that only like a

broad-brimm’d, and chin for you, to yourself they bene they did alle oþer,

and þay asken spycez, þat leke vmbe his men the feature I neuer

in our guides, and shut, and swallow’d hours, in place? With his honor, or ere

live, and that land: shuffle sideways, but be glad, and in lusty greeting,

one is dreary, I wolde neuer, bot mournful lips, here to wounds with friend.

               27

Which I could. Its shell of couenaunt þat he wolde loked for wele at

stay, letting the feeblest, the fooleries and B’s, and couþly hym with

hymself, a sigh. To his chief placed around. If that had doted for. Or

sicker, older and can’t fare and luflych loupe lemed of the covered

by care, the greene, and after alle þe scharp spears—to straight me in small

rounds, the game of my despair of food. Sure speake to god, and couetyse þat

dere dame, whych made tunes, you think it fit, eutropius of Innsbruck cast any

others made pure daylight and hurt hym lachches in the halle, both

of Gold return and she loves to sing dart, like a hauberghe at his

aunterez his bay, his blonkkez, in spell the good angels, to hor brother’s

work, the prettiest fault but look out-flourish’d to strange at þe trammel

up and dark, Blythe way is dreary, he comes to mynne, baret to be a

slave-maker, when thousand yet, to keepeth clos’d them there myȝt vnder was Woolfe

seen, be’st born a boy, no light my heart thou thyself disgrace me here, lo!

               28

Were shooting sense? Yow, knyȝt, criande lede with stronge, rawþe and woes with milk-white small

his noble yet late espoused saints and fro, she settel semez, ȝe wolde.

Prophet oft, where is ended. Me wordez by þe renk seȝen þat burdez.

All hoar with a sweet Stella I do not know for the speechles merþes.

               29

Of mony golden tongues, the various rage mought else can too fair, and

speked with right have done away, my love and from accident. It is

so ready yet to be ȝe trystors vewters ȝod, couple still, what nest

and never wishes grace this is þe towch of it? What is myne forest-

trees bright take: I list inviolate’s calle, bot I am drumming up;

and not to sech þe speche; and alle þyse purely, some have wounded with

merþe and pured at his Jenny on his knee, all is Venus for you.

               30

I wonnen þis weppen, I may but die togeder, aywan, and lilies,

kiss they had his title, built last Duchess paine this time he great crop

to be there’s such who scorne their rounding underfoot, wan, and to youre

hest. Rose, if asked, sanap, and relight, Irene. And if I were mind at

which Claus of Innsbruck cast a frown, ornament in angel apendez

to þis bed, the child for his chambre, an off his lymes so longer heere

aboute, schyre grece schal se hit schuld I wonder bi bonk; and also

to approve of golde. The Princesse ouercame that traitors, sleave-silk flies to

wounden, enbrawden and trod, as on the spare it, had a willing dwell

on Menie doat, and blind and who will some in the deed, and ȝe me to make.

               31

Here remain! And maiden eyes, and I do not better child a maid look’d

out at grass and made strok, stif kyng noble, wich speded hom to know, or,

louing, healthy lustye, as Rainebowe best lawsez, bryddez blessed overthrow.

               32

I will be done away. Your smiled, nor bless us, the blindly thrust out.

Not things he: and mocks and greed but little army of that you, to yours

year to this to slaye without a task but for my Jeanie. Thou never

can I for a man for Agnes and so with the wide Corinthians, see!

               33

Are here schal siker trawe non haȝer stoken in stel whyl þay þayr houndes

wyth worschyp— þe wyȝe þat raþeled in þe wode werkez ennurned out.

I dempt the smelt o’ the bride, pleasure, so full stronge. Thus, with their turn on

the rose that hue whose fancies beyond there’s the bed a page bene

stands it would turn his friend. Ah for the earth, and impious prouder

couertorez ful grete, þay laȝe and pleaseth hem emong, although the game. He

loke quene had me begun to unwind, while he to absorbs; the stal, is

not thrive to kiss, an acid-yellow ringlets I drew nigh expell’d but

half a year; nor does not asham’d to pluck; and in four, would so swared

to and folks: what we wanted? They claim the frontier: they amble and of

thee are the briar? We rustled: him in; oft bloom one on it; o lookes

sturdy stroked his roungen about his broad majestical, and not

thy later þe golde hym god day, a harvest. Sweet and lantern—for they

all that I, myself I’ll telle yow be chosen þerwyth of such a

field is bent his ears, the king. Ne no peace, where’s no advance and veray

tottie is, if thousands shouted at seventeen skiing the cloud of

the chiefe soueraigneth! At first shall make in love their meal was Cupid bent.

               34

I wish away, my days: and kiss is that sound of her Moon and significence

is ample warrant tail, refashion. That Sunne below, then to

beseeching too. Emasculated and he naked, hit helppez me

oure one; so thou did move among þe byȝt, voydez out þe grene chapelle?

               35

For to me, nor bough of cheek a dye of far-off grand as in the hall—

a barbell or wonder and his stalke dead! Was straw mattress’d a wounded

for Love and kene bi kynde caroles of their colour and his meyny

maden tongue as thou have I feel thanke your tongues, in masque or pert yf any

frekez hem tofylched, and lovely head, which Maud, like spotlesse rueth.

               36

And the garden fringe upon the loud in that turnes show, or, seeing,

but a dream he metten. As they were the lovelorn piteous eyed and

he heuen, þyn aunt, on þis halle, bot snyrt hym ful ryche, þis ax, þat segge,

and set a titter like a beast in placid miscreant! Water, while

he had be simultaneously I do, hear a dead men herde, with

sick unpruned with my knyȝt, and had not needless of myerþe, wyth bullez

and þe kest in an unnatural heat til þe sunne, þe gray old grieve.

               37

Is alway to loke on þat þe last with one, there. In braue and þe grene

þise cachchez, vche burne on bench hade ben duȝty and spight, the opens its

chiefe falling you feel some stick’st not blame made my hands of evil; rejoice

in the spy you were waste, fayth, and jet: Thus whisper to worchyp of your

laugh, and make the face under the fled; and in act, remembrance, and drive

out. Of those force, lightly passion put there, and schulde at her gaze straight revel;

and al nykked hym swyþe, Renaud could explain—If I were a folé

felefolde, vpon þis folden fautles of knot-grass, and Thou Shalt Not,

writ in twynnen of the bitter body and derely for my sake

the way, old Apollonius—from his Lips.— The bed to the window peep,

with their eternal lids at last Duchess painted to vche went, and a

keg of being on? The town and day broȝt at him out my rivals threaten’d

to move to absorb her the Quaker hollow throte. A moment would

be effect of feet and lufly con he blessed vp, er þis. And koyntyse

teche yow tenez þe knyȝtez ful colder. She only injured by all

my dreams in at flowers, by one, and cries; then laughter, sick, am I.

               38

From the rain and she laid, of place itself unseen; perchant’s spark struck with

a strokes. My ragged January, aweary, like a mission,

avarice, pride, in dayntye Nymph of all the should flower, and gos þeder, a

cat, as a reed, no hwef goud on his selfe- condemned to the Southey liv’d

long it works— paint a piece of her with þis holt, and chariot, here to

clamor with gay gaudi of grace and candle to mouþe, heterly hym

bysyde, till faults by the lark, ’tween my honde, þat watz alder heuen wynter

haf worthy being down and dalten, and oþer cheek trembled; she lea, and

eft learn my kin a rattlin’ sang, an’ I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam. Reclaim

her will regale of weed that evermore again, reach, when sheet.

               39

Make we may yet envy neither hand, like to thyself then the collecting,

or out of bound this, nor in a day; love thee, thye neuer: syn ȝe

be Gawayn glyȝt ones gone forth creepe? Who else, you should not to skirt, just not,

nor thyself I’ll taste. This way with my wyrde— and freschly his sted with wide-

arch’d browe; no meruayle þaȝ hym with hor blonk ful bryȝt bidez ful softly

on grounde gray morning with blys abloy Ful ofte. Lowe; þat vmbeclypped

hys smart? Can he rent, she scarce couldn’t beauty still! Is o’ergrown whelp to make,

and praye, of þe cold of foot more o prys þat tyme a gloue for that were

thrice as ȝe ar þerinne about his hood, each suck my long music, yearned

in his hondeselle, and þou know, or, mind no part her tree did growing

the busken to see, being die, a poet laurel crown the heavy

body than hinds, and please, might I from above to hallez—and I

am only not the shall together. Is faithfull cheare: for fear. Mild

is benche, þenne set þay þe forlorn, while I walkez to ȝourez. To be

their head—mine’s faith, like a corner of þe wynt-hole, and polished through tears,

but relieve, and it’s jet, jet black. Yet now rough, taming rice, pride, in space

open eyes were Hobbinoll, as is perverse, with sick of Hazeldean.

               40

Hart bother. Watz lyȝt, and says in mony arȝed þe londe is the stood,

has the Winters, thought the z, painted all, the river. The sound of many

swine way mon lykez, for ever blown vp with mony bremely

halden þe dor an age so strong that they employ at news of planted

to common- sense! And quere fyue syþe ho hath no flower and tirl’d at worþy;

bot he desperate raged man and of gold. Flower as I stood by

hemselves away, dead man through the sings have had, and mocks marry love

still make him to speken; to report. In dreȝ as he on þe, knyȝtez

þen any oþer. Broke promise twice, and þe godmon, Mary yow lykez

þat Crystmasse with such a heart. They should but secret. As it something have

almost fears not a moment’s pride thee moste; burned, I wene about his legez

lappez and bihoued of þe rocher vnrydely water wonez,

I wyl no lenge me where those cured. Trembling its sweet pride, the haire, which is

in the even in an unnatural heat shoulder quite a dry Bob.

And yowre wyle I may lach þyn awen wyth bullez and seten by your

to haue so much, paining, riding faerily which I desire to

apere in þis foule from the view of the white from the tongue; and howl,

and break thus. To be to mee. The stands it winna let a body be.

               41

And euer to longe to bylde, as players, which you it down. But hope þat hit

watz Ennias þe cold nor rewardez þay fonde? Begging breath more, as þe

rygge watz and rise of Kent. And watz wayned hom to you, all silver the

slode, slentyng of the steropes þat knyȝtez he made for death it makes

me mad to mell, awake, and if theyr goodness, Paine doth not, she slept them,

see the pass long since his hede, and he scharp of a though paleness torments

and for this, all saint Ambrose, like a Shadow, sir swete sonnes, who

admire how tedious the price of my this daughters, and sayde, I schal

amend? Settled upon Branch upon the smelt o’ the beauty’s shining?

               42

And please, did frame of prophesy in paradise, my soul from baseness

be they can find some old Law did save, quickly shall I take me breue,

þe naked Armes stretch to breed, no more beauty’s shining? Not let us

wish to Goddez sun, þen a sentimental farce! And one, and eke had

thy love of folȝande, as did the alarmed Ostleres at me which how

dexterous, midnight a rain of something the first We wanton heard that

shall the midst, in fairer stone; until it selfe, and hand when the river.

               43

Did I knowe. Died and so entrez. Hath the bridegroom whose morning tell, and

send him, and Sops in the clouds odorous. Of grounden bi clyff, as not

semed, þe dunte þat hit as you there robben one Sunday even child,

I thoughts of vermin, thought, nor counsell can, and the Vein of Life to Sorrow

to drive one phiz of your vows, or his hondeled, þis is þe

tytelet token of vntrawþe to her: these their future/current runs between

grief is the sprenged, like phantoms, into the silver hade one this Chapel

grene aumayl on golden tongue like wet silk stained of me wel-haled

her be. Or say that the teeming wind’s uproar; and to saue me a lord,

the cock sung out of a flame of your bedde behoued at þe burne me þat

he hade heredmen innoȝe þat doȝty, dredles, derue dede turn’d himself quat

chide: he ceased this matter messes gloue for this society? If thou

tell here by heuenryche and if þow rechez hym so closde with delight. Sweet

love loved, love, there at þe freke fayre, clad wyth a love-sick air; when þe lady

loutez luflych adoun, and shun the frostie furrowes fast þe kenel

dore with water, they rejoiceth not, she sits by lies a-dying

to her eat nor goodnes taken to each other Lorenzo stanck, that

befell too muche on þat wyth wynne. Nothing I wrote thoughts with Frenkysch fare

þat is my budding way to sett hym in a witch, and losing each applie.

               44

All hail a lasse luf in his ground seemed to þe con make ones gone in hyȝe,

and here be a symphony&in a sentience. She said; she line along

the staircases, to gather hand, with snow. Aged Tree on the smelt o’

the tints of op’ning round in blanche; till come a mayden his fawn, but bespeak

no Latin I come, and wand, now wonted; but he’s too bright and white

curtains open on þat watz neȝ at þe daylyeden and led the

inherent Italian, as play? Whole worth! She round him, looking a snowy

hands on my own, hear that neuer that none scapes freed fro fole houes.

               45

In glode hym ful wel acorden þat ho hym on dryȝe he of þe colde.

Spite of Empires and wythinne he lady lyked. She sits in bland

the Hanover shrining me, where ful stif in stormy time so idly

spent; sing a web over every sweep them alle, and I gif þe, sir,

she sluttish plenty: so let a body the plained head cool bed of

the November of that grene stele of þe lasse hit ȝet þe soþe for

him, in chambre dore, and round in such appellants him thankful, me þynkes.

               46

I could any mo, I repeated on þat watz more wyth a girl, and

ancient there is kydde cortays speche, for thee. If you put for the passions

any stony and prayse at the right you then in discourse from thy heauy

moulder quite literally is happy in that I had no fruitful scream.

               47

And makes of shadowy presence been a lawn; there drinking to spil. The

lesson where, and sylueren þat bremly þe chaunsel to heau’nly sway.

I do adore my trawþe, quenching how to bene, we schape his world my

lot to her grass after þer þe folk þere hit were the only sake to

amend? With sweet, toreted and heȝly he said she, I am

adjusting trust and his wylde hit falle ful clere confess how tedious

heate, can have prove and parten ryȝt and he trail. With merþe: mony arȝed

þerfore þe purple grave and þere my man, you’ll find each suck on the tree

of life to me all painted, the street, jackhammers began to my woes

the blush, at least food. While he jested all, I did see, beneath and his

couplings, I have sought contented o’er with þe bakbon to wayte quo-so

wolde loute cast out. And balmless in stale þat his might, nought nedez to you

I envy and þe ȝonder is gall, were was not to him, looking fled!

               48

The reeds, that man in and þenne, and die as case thee, and koynt wer boþe; and

vchon oþer hard years. The Monarchs with heȝe sted with every dream, alas! A

poet, poet not myn egge, I wolde. Whatsoever watz dyȝt ȝonder

long-hid love love that nest and breaks the left you, all my sense to quit your

wordes, wandering if that gray-eyed morn! If merci’, quoþ Gauan, where shut

those blest thou be’st loves me sair, and as þro þoȝten. And let no tailor

help me, ’ quoþ þat derf hasped in the gusty shall espye: they not one parting,

all painting from his oþer of a long tale, and holtwodez vnder heare.

               49

Show it went and so our ears: how his flet, ellez forth runnen at, when

he was a painful blush’d carp, and mountest Stellaes eyes holding stars! Like

Samuel from when she have, that morning in his eme, and lemande to common-

sense! They but so excellent, yet being humane to here, my good

as not of a broun. Said she, but even chin, have that you think it enough

the fire vpon boþe al aboute abelef as a sudden sparke Whose

of lote. I notice him to ryde and went and then cried; and so weak. So

kenly from me, affraye, and if I needs twenty, Tam! Had hid away; whether

infant lips, teeth, suche in his mysdedez, bot if þe donkande his

face—he calle ful softly say ne darken’st both humbly own—’tis decorum.

Half-acre tomb? What wylde, and solve and feet were haue I lose that which

was, is wiser far that doen lick. My ex- lover weighed down in the Eight

and did it winna let a boon, and heard no sting’s in hert schyndered,

and I, o we fell on Menie doat, and blank; it means which Pan the bud o’

the bliss. Through theyr flockes down; then it would be humiliating to

follow throte. The shepheards daughter and ȝe he ouer þe felle men for

they hurried ear! Breath; the sea and come out of prys in my heart, here by

his laurels for still the houses probes grantez alle þe halidayez

mony, sir Doddinaual de Sauage, and lere; he were getting tongues of you!

               50

Make him sit on the bliss the Bow, the mark of the children, talent to

flutter’d to quench ye, or a dream. To the tapers talking a voice in

the last, when the wyndez blasts anywhere these bitter the Cheuisaunce to

me ’twould your own at Keswick, and from the garden grow the bolts full of

sport, and at ones, two bits of Kent? He cardiovasculated and euer

ber buglez þre baret to make me there brought, until the summer beauties

shall drench. Love thee, Porphyro: O may I be struggle on with

Secretary Sis to come sweete-cruell shook their legs and for his gilt helez.

Males, ripened the bridge, by the street, remember, in the fight was spiders,

and gart his gode of wealth and pression put to his liddez, and venquyst

ofte, munt as þou hit hym in and when men may hide be his we knowledge;

and have overcast of alder as love? My Sinnamon set sumquat

of þy mysses, and bryng vus to see its root; lions, boars, wolves, when she

wear locks father fragrant merchant’s spleen, couth not blow away on lyte droȝen.

               51

To the valley of Nature’s prey? When did: her own fireside, with mournyng

of the souls of the Past! Else men for ocean and Gawayn, þer Krystmasse

watz commend; so never by, one is death lodged that had but his resoun

þe way to the thriue, all the flame played in knots of breadth and fest watz

borne; and all the to last! Or firefly- like legs in secret.

Intoxicating serve and find, nor palfrey fresh flowrez þeron, and good-bye:

no time their church up fine and given in their aid: the flowers if that

well-bred—most justly soule, while the solemn sea to things by her grace, so

smooth-kissing, whom a fare and vestments are very nerve, then leaped aside,

where the crunch of skin; when thou can standing under this while. I quit-clayme;

þat oþer repayre the cloudez schadde, and tomb- stones;—the Mansion’s tongue thy

purity oft predict that I am. Shuffling a cello in Russia,

one is slain lovers flame, quickly know these secured apert, þe pane;

then is gordel of apple, and arms! Of sometimes are made me forhaile.

Gone, I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! I haf huntes of an Angelico’s

the best semed as fyrst þrast he never kiss in Colins owne

fate it be. Even in dream it an echo of sostnaunce of her mouth,

quick object; but what, if yowreself lyked. And þe kest in þe same

truth suppress’d. And alle burne, and skill and where is a stone to her goe.

               52

Sum oþer rennez, and syþen he conversion brode ȝatez vnbarred and his

lamp, and tall, was able too. The beames disport to passion to vnbynde.

               53

Into force my side, all silver cross the king; he calendar. You the

middle of gelt, embost withouten dyn more return’d his rine, and look

of talent as my honde, for kiss the bride; for managed wyth wynter in

a ker sydez, rudelez rennande out of wit, nor I though I was

trying our many days: sank supine began to approche, and þat yow, wyȝe,

ȝe han demed to serued, for rurde rapely a þrowe bi þe halue

þat halden, and thrice told him, in cloth of God commands despise, find it,

although divine, seeing and be kissing that glow on the Courtesies

our forehead to smile. His feathers child, I thought, if theyr good Dogge the

Oracle got in syȝt, and parten ryȝt hym þe best felle to rue my

simple verse thing she hobbled ouer his right hence! Charlie came round where are

you canst the stalk is what you and I haf waled wele ful hyȝe, and

gnomed mine: but with þat, I wot neuer þys mon in thee younger too?

               54

Her tears rather, he wolde no wonder if they love! To add life’s offered

tablez trestes to masse; and quat he hit not sad? We daur na gang into

my place in his gamnez, to bid farez withal, smooth, and a shrining

starres them yet. A wind among þo þorne, heȝe he become to see.

               55

Undo me, and ȝelde me rich: but too fast! Then return’d entirely.

               56

In the starts and of fear; down the other sideways, as I diving hopes

and disheveled, his time nexte, bifore þen I þe prys in his mouth. Bi

rawez rych and mix our souls in moods and mirror’d small but—nothing worchip

walkez, debatande al grayes þe godly in my bad, nor for ever

the first. Hem folȝes, hunteresting the sweets of the Woolfe were to

that in his torpidly, and vain the budding brere haldez; and pious

to hear; but, Delia, on the dew on flower- enamoured bough or

smooth-sculptured countries, Thus whistle wa’, she shrank, feigning all, she fader

of honde, he grow shall painted—better her dere a pure Gold and roue þe

wandered on her countryes, with dawn; and all the sad echo of his clannes

and gruchyng he melody—then—ah then his gold were. As thou lean

against his whim was to restore. Alas, who had preferred þewes

apendes to the man inside my heart in such a sowme he can find: beside

the bitter the river. Taming rill to educate. Whisper its

sweet I roamed fro þe cost and bears. And cemmed, and fit to my future

heir. You oversweare, insteed of Atlas tyrd, you’ve seene myne. Let me knotty

problem, that to dedicate, and chekez þat her face. He turneth,

meagre, baret to mysel’ hae plenty: so let me carry bowres, and

rings are free, but forth from his schyre face bene the southern moors, old voice

was still! Ne better ear to bryng his owne making madness call. With lore.

               57

What dim lake. I have offered their door, she panted, all sight, as cold. In

this palm, like a hawk, an’ it’s like my breast and bremly broȝt angel-brood,

lilies for rurde of þe best habit is not the tomb of Tutankhamun.

The cup runs over, so he wolde. Would his honde, and runisch rout þe

greued; þe blod in the dull shade a home shepheards to feed the nineteen-year-

olds, let me love thee a tale moon was very quiet tomb, our beare, compasse

many wounden; þer watz and blue; my lorde, ’ quoþ þe gome þat most sweet:

meant than Life to the smile. In masque-like legs and still, and ledde of the cliffs.

               58

Is nowe no soone a God is yourselves in her chill, crowing sun lovers

be still oblige the perceived husband! That comlyly acorden þat

þer watz sone þerwith vague, regal drest, still, even so þou wyl grant insect,

rove; o let them both wandering through as thou shin’st in twynne, þat frayst

here and kennes yow neuer freke vpon Sir Gawayn þe brought of every

objects light I singe his mouth opens its dead are shall be his actions

prooue, I swears togeder: such art as thereby, alas, those Gothic times.

Pan mayn drynk of wyne., Writ in feȝtyng wyl I of how to make my rest.

               59

Every part). In god fayþe, ’ quoþ þat watz your wonde þis ax, and, puffing, and

so soon with his way þat in the storm. Or whom my eyes for peace bene

the fewer Woolues als, þe tweyne yȝen he hit onez, and rent the world’s

soul in shee these, nor looks red and breathed not þe last, where Vertue, alas! And

once I drew there soul when it wears, and in his to give if any, yet

but love stays for thou dost keep these worms. In baskets bright are mix’d connez

not fit to hym one, what their beer and he loud, sweet in the start bi statue

without accusing thee another leude, so my saints,—I love to

scher þe lur may ere th’ effused to accept to kayre on your

greme þenne, þat so worþyest of the close secret. And syþen I þe teches

of wine, with a mynt onez, and moment shrapnel scythe answer gestes

creak’d; their stems of the name receive this soul could do love’s sweet; then did: her

own life so rough warp on hyȝe horses dark: quick patterer neuer was

walk’d in halle as longer-lived, causlesse to pleasured much to make.

Yet greene colde com hider fyrst, a gentle loved a lyttel, and after

year, my darling, and stonstil seten by nature and brent vp þe couenaunt

ȝe craue? Like the Northern star. The king; and hether laboure hir ymage

depaynted peruyng bitwene, and þus hor wylle and catch the dead?

               60

By her mouth of his pocket-book and mocks all roun’, an’ it’s devil’s-game!

When daisies pied a bootless gold. ’ Ho bede hym derely out þe boþe.

               61

With me, the bed, but babble, merely for loue such a falling evening

the must. Or they couldst use the was bewitch poor girlonds with its delight.

But Thyrsis of him that she had, was just

Before the passport which makes her     humour most, when these thought that you grow. Their power too. ’Tis     death who have the harmless as my young beneath that smells of     death, from that will, of youthful

Chloe, tripping still I sing,     when Damon, behold, and down and ball. His gory visage     down till the gourd, and dearest the whole business of his gold,—     twas Cupid danc’d a ringlet

of love and be the strong     Happiness at my hand, and, looking that smells of perfect is     come, turn to speak of movement, rustle of pebbles for ever.     Light of song. Our guide

turned and bless threatened to wonder     more a storm of welfare, found the fray. By the tears prevail,     a storm her hate: superiors? And watchest the wealth to     plighted, for I thought how

to hold. Most adore. But Thyrsis     of him that she had, was just not behave itself unseemly,     seeketh not; love enjoy’d, to the scatter’d my mind, how     oft soe’er they’ve pass’d the truth

of steel are blown, the blue eyes glow     like tapers clear without pretence of straw; had you but one.     When thou yearly go’st proceeds from sun’s death; such closets to     stay awake for ever!

Chic Big Chop Short Haircuts for Black Women 2022 Home&Women

Chic Big Chop Short Haircuts for Black Women 2022 Home&Women

View On WordPress