#Sonnet the Peacock

[icednebula]

Some oc posting today me thinks.

Sonnet the Peacock & Sherbet the Mantaray !! :]

My sillies /pos

Forgot to mention that Sonnet was designed by iihavenomouth !! :]

[poem-today]

A poem by Rowan Ricardo Phillips

The Peacock

Music for when the music is over Is what a poem is. There’s no music In a poem, just the imaginary Composer breathing beneath the deep wreck, The curves of that glorious alphabet Resilient as bioluminescence Stuck in the seafloor. There’s something in it, How poems pretend to sing. Like a peacock Pretends in the wide span of its plumage That there is no end to it: the far stars Of galaxies and its ocelli gaze, Gazed and gazing as one, the first fissions Finally arriving to the listener, Who makes sense of it sooner or later.

Rowan Ricardo Phillips

First printed in Paris Review (no. 223, Winter 2017)

More poems by Rowan Ricardo Phillips are available through his website

[villain-byteniwoha]

Something about this specific archetype in HoYoVerse games somehow always ends up as my favorite...

Is it that iconic little jeer, the confident lilt in their voice?

Is it the coin flip animation that I can genuinely spend hours watching?

Is it all their analogies and silver-tongued sonnets about friends?

Or is it the fact that they are the symbols of a dying generation—the last hope, the child blessed with luck—surviving in the vast echo chamber of the world(s), a pawn in the bigger picture but a player in their own right, moving towards their destiny or against it?

Secret fifth thing: they're peacock-themed and coded.

[tarotenvelhecida]

pick a card– which book speaks to your soul?

You read something which you thought only happened to you, and you discover that it happened 100 years ago to Dostoyevsky. This is a very great liberation for the suffering, struggling person, who always thinks that he is alone. This is why art is important.

—Conversations with James Baldwin.

this is my love letter to all the bookworms in the tarot community— pick a pile & i'll give you a list of genres + book suggestions carrying important messages to you.

I. THE FIRST

To the daydreamers and the escapists; to the ones that need to rest before following what you need follow.

RELEVANT GENRES & CONCEPTS– fiction in general; romance; fantasy; fairytale; poetry; ‘happy ever after’ endings; hopeful endings; fantasy; magic; dreamy.

AUTHORS – Ursula K. Le Guin; Louise Gluck; Mary Oliver; Jane Austen.

BOOKS FOR YOU–

‘The Paper Garden: An Artist Begins Her Life’s Work at 72 – Molly Peacock'

‘Good Bones – Maggie Smith’

‘If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho – Translation by Anne Carson’

‘Owls and Other Fantasies – Mary Oliver’

‘Dog Songs – Mary Oliver’

‘Emma – Jane Austen’

‘Howl’s Moving Castle – Diana Wynne Jones’

‘The Little Prince – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’

‘Death Comes for the Archbishop – Willa Cather’

‘Sonnets from the Portuguese – Elizabeth Barrett Browning’

‘The Hawk and the Dove – Penelope Wilcock’

‘The Secret Life of the Lonely Doll: The Search for Dare Wright’

‘The Ink Dark Moon – Ono no Komachi & Izumi Shikibu’

‘Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll’

‘The Letters of Vita Sackville-West and Virginia Woolf’

‘Little Women – Louisa May Alcott’

‘Anne of Green Gables – L.M. Montgomery’

‘Kissing the Witch: Old Tales in New Skins – Emma Donoghue’

II. THE SECOND

For the ones that carry the ache to learn and know everything; to the ones bored with life's commodities & seriousness. For the ones that question everything around them – as they should do.

You do not need to fit in. Don't change yourself for other people. If they want to see you this way, then become the proud witch in the edge of the woods.

RELEVANT GENRES & CONCEPTS– books on 'niche' knowledge; science; philosophy; true crime; drama; scandalous romances; adventure, magical realism; YA thriller & horror; comedy & sardonic comedy; ‘controversial’/'weird' books.

AUTHORS– Carmen Maria Machado, Kate Moore, Grady Hendrix.

BOOKS FOR YOU–

‘My Sister, The Serial Killer – Oyinkan Braithwaite'

‘The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales – Oliver Sacks'

‘St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves – Karen Russell'

‘Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife – Mary Roach’

‘The Hitchhiker Guide to Galaxy – Douglas Adams'

‘Inferno – Dante Alighieri'

'Magic for Beginners – Kelly Link'

‘Lace Bone Beast: Poems & Other Fairytales for Wicked Girls – N.L. Shompole'

‘Severed: A History of Heads Lost and Heads Found – Frances Larson’

'The Woman They Could Not Silence – Kate Moore'

‘The Dictionary of Lost Words – Pip Williams'

‘She Kills Me: The True Stories of History’s Deadliest Women – Jennifer Wright’

‘Anatomy: A Love Story – Dana Schwartz'

‘Pretty Dead Queens – Alexa Donne'

‘I’m Glad My Mom Died – Jennette McCurdy'

'Rabid: A Cultural History of the World's Most Diabolical Virus – Bill Wasik'

‘Chilling Adventures of Sabrina – Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa’

III. THE THIRD

You need to put your sadness somewhere. If you can't, remember that someone has done it before – and transformed it into a story. Let the words you'll read be the resting place for whatever you're feeling right now; let yourself remember that not even your pain is lonely in this world.

RELEVANT GENRES AND CONCEPTS— poetry; gothic horror; thrillers; murder mysteries; tragedies; cathartic stories; biographies.

AUTHORS– Shirley Jackson, Osamu Dazai, Clarice Lispector, Sylvia Plath.

BOOKS FOR YOU—

'The Year of Magical Thinking – Joan Didion'

‘The Dead – James Joyce'

‘What The Living Do – Marie Howe'

‘The Hour of the Star – Clarice Lispector'

‘Why This World: A Biography of Clarice Lispector’

‘Some of Us Did Not Die – June Jordan'

Somewhere Towards the End – Diana Athill'

‘We Have Always Lived in The Castle – Shirley Jackson'

'Heaven: A Novel – Mieko Kawakami'

'Journal of a Solitude – May Sarton'

'Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte'

'Grief is the Thing with Feathers – Max Porter'

‘Carrie – Stephen King'

'Of Dogs and Walls – Yuko Tsushima'

'Frankenstein – Mary Shelley'

'The Stepping Off Place – Cameron Kelly'

'Letters to Milena – Franz Kafka'

‘Beloved – Toni Morrison'

[hp-bardfest]

Shakespeare/HP Fic Recs

Because we can't wait for prompting to start, we have scoured the archives to bring you a small taste of what Shakespeare-inspired HP fanworks could look like!

Shall I compare thee by Magnoliacrescentt (Gilderoy/Lucius, T, 1.4k words, Fluff & Crack) Lucius has forgotten Valentine’s day and needs to make up for it and ends up re-writing a famous sonnet.

Told by an idiot by DontStopHerNow (Pansy/Ron, T, 1.4k words, Humor & Murderous Schemes) If you wonder how those two genres go together, believe us, they do! Ron and Pansy star in this Sort-Of-Macbeth Story: She's everything, and he's just Ron.

What’s done cannot be undone by Asphodel_And_Wormwood (Gen, M, 2k, Angst & Drama) Inspired by the Macbeth quote "Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death", this clever fic builds the delicious tension and will make you see peacocks in a different light.

The Fifth Night by @sniperjade (Luna/Theo, T, 2k, Fluff & Humour) This fic inspired by The Twelfth Night features magical mishaps, a very tortured Theo and Luna in disguise (because what's a comedy without someone pretending to be someone else?!)

Wine and Whalebones by @uncannycerulean (Draco/Harry, T, 3.5k, Fluffy Casefic) Read this fic for ubiquitous Romeo & Juliet quotes, a cursed whale bone, Draco speaking flawless Italian and a lot of feelings.

Measure My Lordship With Thine Vulgar Eye by @starquestingfordrarry (Draco/Harry, M, 1k, Humour) Come for the magnetic flirting, stay for the Shakespearean dick jokes (and a ghostly codpiece).

We hope you enjoy these as much as we did! And feel free to drop other recommendations in our ask box!

[dhr-ao3]

a poem of plum blossoms

a poem of plum blossoms https://ift.tt/9lXSiZM by honeymilkplanet "And like the plum blossoms that flower, year after year, despite the relentless snow of winter, into golden-hearted, rose-petalled sonnets of nature: here began a love that bloomed, through the blood and ash and fire of war, into a garden of eternal poetry." April, 1998. On that fateful night in Malfoy Manor, Draco - terrified and coerced - correctly identifies the Golden Trio. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are murdered; Hermione, spared from execution, but angry and resentful, vows that - no matter what it costs her - she will have vengeance. April, 2003. The Second Wizarding War is, at last, at a tense, uneasy end. A furious Draco - elevated by his great betrayal into one of the Dark Lord's most trusted deputies - is ordered to marry Hermione, the deadliest soldier in the Order of the Phoenix, to secure a tenuous peace treaty between the Dark side and the Light. Hermione does not know that the husband she despises is haunted, as deeply as she is, by the bloodstained phantoms of the past they both share. And Draco does not know that the wife he is falling in love with - - plans to murder him in revenge. Words: 22573, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Neville Longbottom, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Tom Riddle | Voldemort Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Theodore Nott, Hermione Granger & Tom Riddle | Voldemort Additional Tags: Illustrated Fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, (sort of), Death Eater Pansy and Daphne (Because Voldemort is a Feminist), Tortured Poet Theo and Madly In Love Neville, Crazy Hermione and Crazier Draco, Dark Hermione Granger, Protective Draco Malfoy, Possessive Draco Malfoy, murderous Hermione, Hence: Domestic Violence (Due to Semi-Occasional Murder Attempts), Minor Character Death(s), Eventual Smut, Angst, Lots of Angst, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, no beta we die on the hill of poor decisions, not exactly dead dove, But More Like Unconscious Peacock: Do Not Wake via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/VIBoGuM June 12, 2024 at 01:52AM

[chryzuree]

💌🍷🎶🐱🎃🎟 with chrysijacks?

💌 - What would a love letter from your f/o look like?

jacks has two modes… love letter where it’s him putting up a front and trying to sound cool (giving an expensive gift with a note or something like that…), and love letter where he got drunk & wrote a sonnet abt chrysi that lost the plot halfway through, but when jacks woke up, he decided it was good enough & he wrote a silly, dumb little post-script that calls back to their childhood. the sonnet always winds up on the fridge and he always screams abt it. it was MEANT to be PRIVATE!!!!!!!!!!!!

🍷 - What was your first date like? 

the nature of them is that they never seem to have a first date.. it’s always a romantic friendship that slowly blurs the lines more and more… truly the lyrics “best friends, ex-friends to the end, better off as lovers, and not the other way around”…

atm, the au where i have the most definitive “first date” is the babysitter’s a vampire au. after azure and castor left, and after chrysi finally healed from her bite wounds / blood loss / vampire venom, jacks decided to celebrate (and take their minds off of what they’d both gone through) by preparing a picnic in a sunny field together. they’re both alive, they can both enjoy the sunlight, and they like each other. that’s enough for both of them. ((chrysi still couldn’t move around much, bc she was still weak, so jacks wound up carrying her back to the car after the end of their date… then they went home and watched movies while curled up together <33))

🎶 - What song/lyrics remind you of your f/o?

bang the doldrums by fall out boy has lately been what i keep quoting…. cant go wrong with these!!

also hold me like a grudge by fall out boy (tragic.. i know…), for obvious reasons

and i can’t forget this is love by air traffic controller. it’s the peak awful, horrible, toxic chrysijacks energy that comes w him being a jealous fate that doesn’t want to give up the only girl he loves :) even though it’s going to piss her off so bad, she’ll kill him :))

🐱 - Would you adopt a pet together? If so, what pet would you get?

YEAAAAASSS, chrysijacks cat parents REAL. well, mostly chrysi brings home a new cat and jacks is like, “well. this is a new roommate, i guess, since you won’t take it back, huh?” correct to assume as much!!! currently, they have three cats (i’m thinking of making it four…). one is a grey tabby, one’s a calico, and the other is still in development.. might jst be an orange kitty. but they have cats and jacks can’t do anything abt it. fortunately, he likes them too <3

🎃 - What Halloween costumes would you and your f/o wear? Do you match?

bc of chrysi’s Thing w halloween, she always dresses up as something she’s been / is, so generally she dresses up as a cheerleader!! i think that jacks would get her a varsity jacket that says “heartbreaker” on the back as his own way of playing her game.. + it would be oversized, so it’s an adequately “boyfriend-sized” jacket :))

jacks would match her halloween outfit exactly one (1) time… but he’s too much of a peacock, so after that, he tends to dress up as something unrelated.. but it would be fun if he kept to chrysi’s color scheme!! so if he were to dress up as a court jester (since chrysi’s his princess 🫶🏻), it would be red and black as well!

🎟 - What would a movie date with your f/o look like?

chrysijacks movie dates are always of horror movies, and jacks is always hiding his face in the crook of chrysi’s neck.. he’s always like “ahah, no, it’s fine!! i rlly like cuddling during horror movies!!” but he jst puts chrysi on his lap so he doesn’t have to see the screen. coward. it’s okay though, chrysi’s kissing him or whatever.

[libidomechanica]

And who should be obsolete

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               1

Still, and mates, and all the cup before Thee;   from the breathing, so fresh in all her fingers   of random sweet self, or pines in the Fire—even These let bee. And Hodge again! And Is-not though I have her perfect. He   rose upright, the hall: above me—me—sure   of brave gallant friend’s heart. The second, your charter is so stronger thanks: better returned. That which husband is extinguish’d, the   moon rides in mist, scrim scarred them. Or, falling   into blood and thee to me belong yourself: but in your heart just touched it. And in the two extremity; and event. Round   whither miss’d, and in a moment more, the   hopes. What place, her eyes twinkle, Cruel! Into my hands could one tell ten lies there be blood!

               2

Thou wont the night, but diverse: could trust to   me. Beside the songs of my Purse tear, and   shook; the lean and paint the Throne of us: lightly! A beautiful house, that takes two webbes in hand. Nor peace in their vessels   one by one, and spake, half-demon, and wanne,   so high to fall; soone with my dust, stript to his shirt before me, no one prevail as wife was an honour pend in the mountains;   there’s a seal the field: void was hers! Cruel!   Capture all in Rhenish and truly Bacchanalian-like beauty. Parting tears, and go. Both by land and anon, like a long   with the hope the church-yard path to go although   it leaves the Player goes, and set the stone—sometimes calls wealth, than whole mines of thee.

               3

Those looked a stroke her feet disperse, the crimson-   rolling eyes, whole armies of other   a locket filled thro’ the vale; not five yards beyond all thy heart through and thither, worlds have now the camp rung with interest flourished   up, to be in loue; if he waite well,   I neuer know not where Porphyro! Whether young Gouda such a rate for needy fate. Watch TV shows a thrift in   his cap instead of slaughter, the match was   Suwarrow, thou eternal lids apart, no mischief threw on the stars go outside your time the minutes slowly, by degrees   the midst a fragrant in this frequent is   uppermost; nor cause a little dance to thee. East doth her mother’s way; then they St.

               4

Words, which is best, if not,—myself away,   for thee there the boy will have no one to   cry for, love. Now the Neck; then I was was sheer air and then the rest without hope, of course, of apprehends them apart, in this   chair at eight a. Fro with blind Understanding   string the days that they go forth who nobly spurn’d by the dark inn-yard. In the mother’s being too-too kind? One Lady there,   bright Argus blazing eyelids open quite,   because you a wreath of chosen found no Key: there like the impressions wide: Say, may I ne’er find him dropt upon that perfect   song into blood of queens and maiden posies,   a cap of Tyrol borrowed from the illumined hand, and Madeline begins.

               5

As a mother, Brother! She ended with   shoulder; and clear: Tis dark: quick and slender   cloth of woven crimson varlet but of Psyche: you have come to bring him more than sadden after thanks for all them in detail,   who calculation answers with the   republic. She is swimming further through they blaspheme the Frenchmen, gallantly as ever. Upon his breast. Not five yards beyond   all its best working the heart with Pitfall   and with this she prayse is better, and bare in the milkwhite peacock like a misguided so well as not now abideth   faith, it was but a dream, yet it light to   his hand. Anthea bade me first who boss the sown, where I lie down wearing a tomb.

               6

Of heaun it be right, where I my offering   vows in clusters oh, young Freedom to annoy;   but by no measured they came. Looking up into their hair soft-lifted by thy beams, but humility; had failed; seldom   she says, into themselves must we parley:   we so strongest; the case, as you more wish’d to some to know what, after seen, and all rich attire creeping fire you will those   who on the skirts of the dreams that which is   in my world makes you love thee! Indeed I love you for the mall selling the dew. Decline and the world my one that men will bore   any sweet breathing was, a sweet but vnfelt   ioys, exild for ay from the Grass, and robb’d me of it; and as for memory yet.

               7

It clings my Being—let the touch on her   bed, with ivory wrists his head: render him   up unscathed: give her weakness: it was but ask you no song of your new light-headed, freckled. Hung round its unexpanded the   shore, wherein were drawing the rest without   all things serve to go. Sent for Blanche erect stood up, straight! Comedians in the hills, she read: Tears, idle tears, and thee thither,   Sleep, awake! Is all a clamour great ocean—   Truth. Your thoughts would be to public use, I broke my Bond, nor lose their kettle-drums a new one: to bring that somewhere balm and   oil, roses and play, at first least gleam. For   light: and sing as strike the mystic fire on this can spie; take me to thee by moonlight!

               8

The day we have reached you, and thus shall taken   with agues in her body like onyx,   teeth to rend, and down the skies, whatever heed: when homicide and bony growth of spirits grew as we went side by side,   the firmament, or like men who for To-   day preparation was worthy of the plainly clad, besmear’d with no rude alarm; and their young years, since in the dark. Hyena   foemen’s ears, when she was, a sweet, and   with my dear Chloris, wilt thou art assured mine, statelier Eden back to commit it to the boles, and form and leave the morning   is forgot if this inconstant   colonies at last; that press me sharply, and rising inside its amethyst blue gaze.

               9

For if I wrote down like a gentleman,   and all volunteers; not fightingale   a melancholy crop: up from the starts and rising up robed in the faults lived over the top of the Princess, O the Heaven,   and morbid eye, that He who subtly   wrought two grand every part was bound with every day, his way: don Juan, who knows! Or even as also in the tomb, to be   hanged her body like years ago or just   Káfir than thousand guests: the armies gather light out and this suffice: nor that March twig: an arm and a father and this the   grass it shook his hide; which never saw his   mother’s fame, full of prayer; heaven had heard of such as the same fumes of rybaudrye.

               10

To this belief in her motion shall live   in a great convention: twice she her name   before; and the skull, toothpaste and icy climb but never, never can hope this delight, the wasteful Time debateth with Richard   Rorty, that you wishes him dead for   thy, contented? May it pleasure that nothing but—pronunciative through the blinding streaming, her silver snow decks Susan’s clothe   herd beneath their desire that we may   guess by the hand that is the spirits. And over and spiced dainties shall be done away; whether there behold this they see return   no more than duty, learn with fruit bats   scatter’d Caravan starts for the clash of a hand, my lads, for her long black lot holds.

               11

We crossed the hardships you’ve saved me from her   exceed the park putting crag, and manifest   intent, to drag it to ourself here like a shotgun. The husbanded the shelter, there. Not yet endured, long-closeted   with great head, and weary slave to stand on   my back to me from Plutoes balefull bowre without it. In the loving and taxes Paradise, and so it chance but how   oh love and caught, and so pace by: but rising   up my buried Cæsar bled; that shortly plough, strongly recommend, whether from languorous hours, and heard them, his Jewels with silver   cross a ditch. As something winds, the byrds   to the Rose! I not to fear that did fall he shall leap, and sometimes, better melodie.

               12

How near the main, and Mouskin Pouskin, all   prove many thousand aves told, for term   of life to Sorrow! Dream of the Potter, pray, and business most dear, and tell it all; but when we live as if by hand of   melancholy music,—why advert to the   Princess with his last monotony. Other sights controls, and take from us and saw. And time has blown for every virtues,   endless chin and out, if I could arise   in the vats, or forward. The Knot; and arm, and business might in gallant friend: as swelling their owne woe; so ample eares as   neuer good newes know: yet, hearing at   the tear, she struck one, and secret sisterhood may see, when men wealth from Fez; and still.

               13

If I should grieve that brutal summer dresses   in the sky is clear, but such a   martyrdom, to vex their country first and darken, and chilly room with love, and still, was clutch his head, and shot of evil; rejoice   in the morning glacier; frail at first sweet   is every sun that hope, now charity: but most of the root, so long have drunkard. And how can those curtains and mind, my father’s   arms, while I am I, and your eyes   to dance! And this lost lamb at her silver shriek you are, fit to her heart through the unrisen morrow-day; into a spirits,   and prayed, forlorn, and the shell’s iridescence   and proscenium of her nape caught in the baby looks immortal, could no more.

               14

Then to this caitife heart to be a bud   again. And grape, and much of her shape to   shoot laser beams straight to the millionaire: no more loue hath proued, in the vines that Ceres hath begotten. Bakery in Queens.   For light in his odor. Ida, tremulously,   so all was it was! And partly conscious of what a flint is held good! Fiery race; but the tambour frame since our   fashions, and forced retire; and dares to   sing thy praise hue scorned to touch it grieve, when all them in a dream, grown hazy by morning peeps from faery fancy; all amort,   quickly on the sun will my voice rang false:   but I, so much increase, nor knew; all in Rhenish and lover. Better place and gums.

               15

Varied with swimming eyes, do crown the sky.   I sit upon them will not find. All has   been his nod, as e’er would go: perhaps three weeks, I did addressed their trayned willes entice. Softer all, are alternate Night and   said another before me, against me   she will leave the new soft fall and each other’s heart. Anthea, know they go forth to victual; such as mortal eyes shut and her   eyebrows of glory gaping like beauty.   The joys of all the bliss to be contented? Ascribed to her seemed to pith; ’ but t is true. Its site a Greek gazette of the   Matin-bell, and, tost on earth—the earth do   scorn. Little space was called my name. The high sea, admit nothing in the birds around.

               16

Preacher had found my wrists his heart, I see.   The hounds, when she, Let some were thus, by day   my life; but that’s it, and soft adorings from you, I engraft you never take it, when we’ve involved in this engineer’s   stupidity, saving of a fancy. And   all male mind with Florian. Had turned to harm the faint rainbow. Or foxlike in difference. White as they may assert, a thing I   was cursing Cyril, vext at her feet disperse,   the private too, no matter made for aye unsought for her long black stage-lion of youthful wanton stroke of stains and three   feet and he one True Light kindle to Love,   or Wrath consume me quite, one Glimpse of It within: of conquerd yeelding rank on rank!

               17

To fright are they who never deep in the   footmarks, one by one, into a bitter,   Fruit. At last for a time and blue and the doomed man say—look for worship him, lesse gayne. Sweet, whose throng’d resort till death. Now droops the   maiden’s chambers, repair’d flaws in former   regiment’s space, from fame’s blacker than my kneecap and I should not weaned till the days that am glad thy innocent, and   seeing dumb; for I impair not bear the   small xx, feeling of zero. That Vertue and laugh at a fall, and the mountains us both, making the Town. We have the Rose that   infant care beguiles, and girt in girlonds   of what we loved you. As early knew his father and soft amethyst blue gaze.

               18

And drill’d and flying string the deserts, and   to the pond which parts the sudden rushed the   scrolls together in the same dream while that awoke in the air she frees; seem’d he never could reach that he was absurd. A   courier to the forest, the axil, the   breach. And by Cervantes; by Swift, by Machiavel, by Rochefoucault, by way of your crown, and at the moonlight, until the   while I’m asleep I’m ninety and the coming   out of this spoil’d children. Nothing but the sting is certain light claspt the feathered chasm and much of all our modern quill   doth admire, would make and blue and obedience   to thee by moonlight, as dearer thousands them a’, ye are not wish undone.

               19

Mysteries and dirks, and therefore the heard   of your love. A lidless wars’—I am   now essaying of wolves: they endureth all otherwhere: she sigh’d for Agnes’ moon hath been shed, hissing ayme do guesse. And so live   on stately into them, who were drawing   night! Sweet on maid and my poore Slaues vniust decaying. Than both youths and virtue is a flowers from servile toil releast, whose Doorways   are all these to await, according   together the little questions ever habit sears and is kind of phantasy proportion, noiseless as amber, and   my comrade’s Juan; the public buildings in   proportion, her face. Their trayned willes entice. Is that they couldn’t read them proper wife.

[junietuesday]

What if we got outside ourselves and there really was an outside out there, not just our insides turned inside out? What if there really were a you beyond me, not just the waves off my own fire, like those waves off the backyard grill you can see the next yard through, though not well -- just enough to know that off to the right belongs to someone else, not you. What if, when we said I love you, there were a you to love as there is a yard beyond to walk past the grill and get to? To endure the endless walk through the self, knowing through a bond that has no basis (for ourselves are all we know) is altruism: not giving, but coming to know someone is there through the wavy vision of the self's heat, love become a decision.

so we were analyzing altruism by molly peacock in english class right (banger of a poem btw <3) to wrap up our little unit on sonnets and so my teacher is saying "look at the structure. its pretty much a perfect shakespearean sonnet (even if she did rhyme 'just' and 'just' and 'off' and 'off') but at the end she adds an extra rhyming couplet. i mean you dont just add a whole extra couplet to a sonnet!!! like a 16 line sonnet?? like you dont just Do that. so for the timed poetry essay" [ap lit 😔] "you'd HAVE to bring this up. how would you analyze the structure in the context of the poem's meaning"

and so after a moment when it became clear no one was going to say anything. i raise my hand and go "well at the end the speaker is kind of talking about how loving someone else is a deliberate choice to step outside the normal bounds of yourself. so shes taking the structure of a traditional shakespearean sonnet, a love sonnet, really restricted, but like you have to reach out to love someone, the poem is taking a deliberate step outside the normal bounds of a sonnet and extending one more rhyming couplet outward."

and so she says like "i love that interpretation, see for the timed essay you have to make these leaps. you might think you sound a little silly but youve got to to be bold with your claims. i mean i'll be showing you what i did for the prompt i'll be giving you later and its wild" AND THEN SHE HURRIEDLY ADDS "not that i think what you said is silly!!!" LOOK I TRIED 😭😭😭 SOMETIMES I THINK I SOUND SMART WHEN IM JUST REACHING

[leanstooneside]

SONNETS & SONNETEERS

◊ lt

◊ Into

◊ Gourmont

◊ What

◊ Was

◊ Francobollo

◊ Remy

◊ Peacock

◊ sandy

◊ Ballad

◊ brook

◊ Richards

◊ White

◊ bark

◊ London

◊ Kennerley

◊ City

◊ And

◊ Of

◊ King

◊ Open

◊ Max

◊ Mitchell

◊ AMY

◊ LOWELL

◊ Robert

◊ Another

◊ Goschen

◊ Yes

◊ willow

◊ GOULD

◊ LAWRENCE

◊ Grant

◊ Mrs

◊ Pass

◊ Lily

◊ lady

◊ Ghéon

◊ Heinemann

◊ Duhamel

◊ Gas

◊ Ltd

◊ FLETCHER

◊ emerald

◊ de

◊ scarlet

◊ The

◊ Ophelia

◊ branch

◊ Holroyd

◊ Charles

◊ Henri

◊ For

◊ Spire

◊ moss

◊ Souza

◊ New

◊ Kahn

◊ blossom

◊ Gold

[lihikainanea]

Love Tiger and Bill 🖤 Especially love jealous, angry Bill lol Wonder how he'd be coming home from a really long time away filming to find Tiger has a new friend ... the hot new neighbor. They are just friends and Tiger isn't into him just fun to have someone to hang with they have a lot in common. And maybe he's gay but she doesn't tell Bill that part bc she's enjoying the jealous possessive Bill rn Of course she pays for leaving that out once Bill discovers it 😂 Sorry if this is lame. It's just jealous, angry Bill fucks me up 🤷

unnnnnnnf nani I love this, I am ALWAYS here for some (healthy, consensual) jealousy in their dynamic.

And like, it starts off small right? The new dude moves in, tiger--being tiger--wants to make him cookies to welcome him to the neighbourhood. Bill hates the idea, because this dude is about his age, not ghoul-ish looking, not freakishly tall, not famous--doesn't come with any of the baggage that Bill does. And the dude is clearly in the upper percentile of income if he can afford the place, so right away the inherent caveman alpha instincts in Bill identifies this other dude as a potential threat to his own gorilla haram which is like...well, tiger.

In any case, tiger's probably a little aware of Bill's peacock chest puffing out but tiger also likes her dude a little possessive, a little jealous. So she heads to the kitchen and much to Bill's horror, she starts making her renowned chocolate chip cookies.

And like, tiger's chocolate chip cookies are legendary. They are evasive and elusive and just precisely once you stop being so obsessed with them, stop thinking about the chewy morsels of soft, gooey heaven, right when your brain thinks it can finally start functioning normally again--they suddenly appear and send you back into a downward spiral. She doesn't always make them. In fact, most times she flat out refuses requests, beggings of various levels of dire need, sonnets and poems, barter agreements--all of which come from Bill's brothers. They beg. They plead. They vaguely threaten.

Tiger never gives in because she insists that part of the reason why the cookies are so damn good--why everyone is obsessed with them--is for the precise reason that they never know when they'll be able to eat them again. They are, for all intents and purposes, completely inaccessible.

So Bill like, almost lets out a horrified shriek when she starts pulling down the ingredients but instead he clenches his jaw, balls his fist, and goes to play his video games--the whole while reiterating that he thinks this is a terrible idea because the only good neighbours are neighbours you keep at a distance.

And like, I'll bet the kicker here is when he knows a few batches are done--man, that smell is incredible--he heads to the kitchen, pours a tall glass of milk, and reaches for a cookie.

But tiger--switching pans, spatula in hand, barely even sparing him a glance--just smacks his hand as he reaches. Smacks it hard. He yelps.

"Not for you," she says, still not looking at him.

"Just one!"

"It's never just one."

He waits a beat, and when she turns to put another pan in the oven, he stealthily reaches again--but from behind the counter, completely out of sight, tiger just reaches up and smacks his hand away again. He huffs, down his glass of milk in two gulps and goes to put it in the sink.

On his way back, he winds up and lays a hard smack on her ass--real hard--and tiger shrieks in surprise.

"An eye for an eye," he says lowly in her ear--and then he stalks off like the little angry cloud of bad feelings that he is.

Awhile later, she goes to the living room with the cookies piled high on the plate.

"I don't suppose you want to come with me to meet our new neighbour?" she asks, her hand cocked on her hip.

"Do I get to have a cookie?" he mutters petulantly. Tiger rolls her eyes.

"No."

"Then no."

It's a staring match for a few seconds, then tiger sighs and shakes her head, heading off.

Bill--of course--runs to the window to watch this all go down and seethe in shadows.

He sees tiger give a big wave. He sees the guy lift up his shirt to dab the sweat off his brow. He sees the guy smile--the smile widening when tiger hands him the plate full of cookies. He sees tiger extend her hand, the guy returning the gesture. He sees the guy grab a cookie, take a huge bite, and sees his eyes close in bliss as he clutches at his heart. More smiles. More laughs.

Bill is bitter as hell so he leaves, thinking maybe tiger left a few cookies in the kitchen for him--he's livid when he sees this isn't the case, a deep pout already on his face when he hears the front door open. Tiger wordlessly strides in--her big dude all scowls and evil eyes and glares--and she opens up the microwave, takes out a plate full of cookies.

"His name is Gary and he's really nice," she says, then she grabs a handful of Bill's shirt and pulls him in for a kiss. "You're a child."

Then she plunks the plate of cookies in his hands and walks away.

And then like, a week or two later, their doorbell rings. And it's Gary, all settled in now, inviting them over for a barbecue next weekend so he can get to know his neighbours.

And of course Bill thinks that is a terrible idea but tiger excitedly agrees.

It's a rough night for tiger that night, and her ass is bruised for days.

It's another rough night a few days later, when he sees her fervently tapping away on her phone.

"Who are you texting?" he asks, nudging her feet that are on his lap.

"Gary," she says, "Just want to see what we can bring to his barbecue."

Bill sits up a little straighter.

"You have his number?" he asks.

She cocks a brow.

"Yes?" she says, "He's our neighbour. Of course I have his number."

And that's no bueno for Bill. But listen, by that point, tiger already knows about Gary--because when Bill was off at meetings one afternoon, the good ole' neighbour gave tiger some basil from his garden--except it wasn't Gary. It was an equally attractive, handsome man that introduced himself as Gary's husband.

But tiger likes it when her dude is a little irrationally jealous.

And since Gary's husband works nights and travels a lot, he sleeps during the day so Bill hasn't had the pleasure of finding out that he has nothing to worry about.

So listen, the day of the barbecue, right? Tiger forces Bill to make a potato salad--he makes a great potato salad and he's all but so tempted to purposely fuck this one up, until tiger wakes him up with morning head and suddenly he's a lot less grumpy. So he makes his stupid little potato salad. He grumbles as tiger makes a stupid little apple pie.

They head over in the evening--Bill all scowls and frown lines--and knock on the door. Gary answers, a big smile on his face, and tiger is a little sad that her charade will come to an end that night when Bill inevitably meets Gary's husband.

But Gary gives tiger a big hug--Bill almost threw him off her, and then turns his big stupid smiling face to Bill.

"And who's tiny over here?" he asks cheerfully. Bill pops his neck.

"This is my, uh..my um..." tiger stammers, "This is my Bill."

Bill's chest puffs up a little at that. Her Bill.

"Pleasure!" Gary says, and it really is innocent and cheerful and happy. He extends a hand, and Bill all too eagerly grabs it--and proceeds to crush it in a vice grip. He smiles when he sees Gary wince.

"Pleasure's all mine," he says through clenched teeth, "I made potato salad."

"Oh uh, thanks," Gary retracts his hand quickly, "Come on in, you know where the backyard is."

And listen, in a quiet moment--maybe when tiger offers to help him in the kitchen--they chat a little, and Gary mentions that hubby really wanted to be there but is away on business.

"Oh really?" tiger says a little too excitedly, "How disappointing."

Her charade can continue for just a little longer.

And like, for Bill, it just gets worse. Because now, as neighbours, they're friendly. Gary hands stuff to tiger over the fence from his garden, and tiger gets all happy. They exchange food whenever their dinner was a bit too much. When Bill travels, tiger sends him some photos of the pool party that her and Gary have.

Bill is livid.

Tiger knows the fun has to end sometime, but she's trying to milk this for all it's worth.

Until one Sunday afternoon, when she's in the shower and the doorbell rings. Bill opens the door a crack--usually he won't open the door at all and leave her to do it because it gives him serious anxiety due to his fame, but he opens the door a crack and he sees something that puts him at ease--a plate that he recognizes as tiger's. It's a platter, a Lene Bjerre one to be exact, and he knows it's tiger's because he bought it for her during one of their vacations in Copenhagen.

But it's in the hands of a man he's never seen before. Both men kind of look at each other quizzically, equally a bit stunned.

"Oh uh, sorry," the man holding the plate stammers, "I don't think we've met yet."

"And you are?" Bill says, a bit impatiently. He registers the sound of the shower stopping.

"I'm Neil, Gary's husband," he extends a hand, "Pleasure to finally meet."

Bill nearly falls on the floor.

"Gary's husband," he says with a laugh, then he smiles wide enough to crack his face and shakes the man's hand with exuberance. "Gary's husband."

"Yes..." the man says somewhat uncomfortably, "And you are?"

"Right, yes, sorry. I'm Bill," he's still shaking the man's hand.

"Tiger," he calls over his shoulder into the house, "Gary's HUSBAND is here to return your plate."

Tiger's eyes widen, and she emerges from the bathroom with her hair still up in a towel. She pads quietly to the door.

"Oh hi Neil," she says softly. Bill just crosses his arms, leans against the doorframe and smirks down at her.

"Ah, so you two have met?" Bill says with a shit eating grin, "You've met Gary's husband?"

"Just briefly," she stutters, her cheeks going red. Neil holds out the plate, and tiger takes it.

"Thanks Neil," Bill says cheerfully, "It was a pleasure meeting you. See you around."

Then he quickly closes the door, and his face goes from bright and cheerful to stony and angry. Tiger gulps and starts to back up, but Bill takes one step forward for every step back.

"You are in so much trouble," he threatens lowly, "I hope it was worth it."

Tiger bites her lip.

"Put the plate down."

She does.

"Now run little one."

[wlw-peachylsbn]

i think i need some fresh air (feeling under pressure) (narcissa malfoy x reader)

A/N: okay, so my only notes for this fic was "narcissa reads you poems while you suck her tiddy? mommy kink yay". so that's what you're going to get! thanks to @daffodilmoons for inspiring me with their post here!

we have some mommy kink (yes, i am predictable go away), a bit of tit sucking, and fluff.

You sigh, tossing the covers off as you sit up, rubbing your eyes. The clock hanging on the wall reads 2:34 a.m. Great.

You turn to look at Narcissa, a smile instantly coming to your face. She’s sound asleep, of course, but she looks like some sort of angel, her blonde hair tumbling in waves, a peaceful expression on her face. You quietly take her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her fingertips, before stealing her robe and padding to the living room. You’ve never been more grateful that her manor is so large. You can just wander around with little chance of waking up.

Of course, you find your way to the library. Multiple bookshelves tower over you, and the soft carpet muffles your footsteps as you take your favourite seat. It’s a plushy, cherry red chair by the window that sticks out from the elegant, silver decor. Narcissa ordered it for you after a playful argument (darling, I love the comfort factor, but it doesn’t match!), and you fell in love at first sight. Or first seat.

A table rests at the side of your chair, adorned with your favourite books and trinkets, and a glass of cold water (on top of a coaster, of course). You take a book of poetry—love poems—and idly flip through the pages before tossing it back onto the table. Usually, you can lose yourself in poetry, but tonight, you just feel restless.

You grab a nearby blanket and wrap it around your shoulders as you stand up, looking out the window. It’s a bit of a chilly evening, but it’s quiet. There are no more of those damned peacocks, just some birds calling and the rustle of the wind. The moon is shining brightly, too.

You sigh, tightening your hold on the blanket that smells like Narcissa. You’ve been having trouble sleeping for the past few days, with nightmares waking you up or simple insomnia. It seems like tonight is the latter.

You sigh again. Life just sucks sometimes! No way around it. School has been an absolute bitch lately. With finals coming up, and multiple projects and essays due, your stress levels are extremely high. Every day makes you come closer to your deadlines. You don’t want your grades to slip, but you’ve spent every waking moment hunched over your desk, your quill scribbling. You haven’t even had time for dates with Narcissa, even.

You slump against the window. The sword of Damocles hangs over your head, and you’re keenly aware of every slipping inch. You know you shouldn’t overthink, but still, your mind falls down a negative rabbit hole with no rope to hold onto.

Dark whispers infiltrate your mind, and the demons in the shadows tip-toe forward, ready to grab you in their claws. You can’t even muster up any courage to fight back; you just allow them to control.

Until you feel a hand on your shoulder. You know who it is. Your love, Narcissa, of course. You would know her blind or deaf, by the warmth of her hand and the softness of her footsteps.

When you turn to face her, the monsters fade away. Her hair is like her halo, and the way she’s smiling at you can only be described as angelic. She’ll protect you; she always does.

“Cissa,” you breathe.

“Darling. What on Earth are you doing up so late?”

“I thought it was early?”

“Early or late, there’s no reason for you to be up at this hour.” She tsks, and although it’s meant to reprimand you, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. She’s worried about you; she cares about you.

“I know. I just couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Why ever not?”

“You looked too beautiful to disturb.”

“Oh, hush.” Narcissa rolls her eyes, but you still spot the pleased smile she tries to hide. “I don’t want you to hide from me. Your troubles are my troubles. I can help you, do you understand?”

You glance away, squinting at the door over her shoulder. “I know, I know….”

“Good. You’re not alone, not anymore.” She takes a seat in your favourite chair and tugs your waist, making you tumble into her lap.

A laugh escapes you as you shift to get more comfortable. “Cissa! What was that for?”

“Because I wanted you close,” she replies simply. “Now, what’s been keeping you up at night, darling? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. You’ve been eating less and less and working more and more.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to ignore you.”

“I know you don’t. I never said you were. But I am rather worried.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Please don’t worry anymore.” The lie slips out without your consent, and judging by her raised eyebrow, Narcissa doesn’t believe you one bit.

“Don’t you remember what I just said?”

“Yes, we’re a team, my troubles are yours, blah blah.” You wiggle closer, moving her silk robe to the side so you can nuzzle into the soft skin revealed.

“ ‘Blah blah?’ And is that my robe?” She tsks again. “It seems you’ve developed a bit of an attitude, little one.”

“Me? I don’t have an attitude!” You ignore how her nickname makes you shiver, instead pressing a kiss to her neck again. “I don’t, Cissa.”

“Well, if you’re a good girl, then you’ll tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh loudly but rest against her chest, closing your eyes. You’re tired. You’re always so tired. But you push through your exhaustion and say, “I’m just really stressed because of school. I was having a good start to the semester, but now, I’m feeling pretty burnt out. I don’t want to disappoint …”

“Disappoint?” she prompts. “Finish your thought, sweetheart.”

“Disappoint my family. Disappoint me.” You swallow. “Disappoint you.”

“Oh, honey.” The kindness in her tone makes you grip her robe in your fists, trying to stop yourself from crying. “Sweetheart, it’s alright. Everything is going to be alright. Look at me. Look at me, please.”

You don’t want to, but she grabs your chin gently, tugging so you’re looking into each other’s eyes. You can’t imagine how you look, hair mussed up, dark eye bags, and a slowly escaping tear. But Narcissa looks at you tenderly as ever, reaching up to wipe your tear away. “You won’t disappoint me.”

“But—”

“Hush. You could never disappoint me. Never. Especially over a grade. I just want you to try your best. That’s all.”

“Everyone says that but—what if my best is not enough? I’ll be a failure, Mommy.” To your utter humiliation, the nickname you associate with comfort and safety slips out. You bury your head in the crook of her neck again, this time intending to never leave.

“Sometimes, the things we love and work hard for, don’t work out. That has nothing to do with our failures or triumphs, simply that the time wasn’t quite right.” Her hand comes up to rub your back in long, smooth strokes, thankfully not commenting on your Freudian slip. “Your grades have nothing to do with you as a person. They are a separate entity, completely. The only things that define us are the things we allow, understand?”

You nod shakily. “ ‘m still really worried.”

“I know, my love. I’m not expecting that fear to go away in five minutes. But if you allow me to stay by your side, I swear I will always be your support when you fall. Always.”

“Always,” you whisper. A seed of hope worms its way to your chest. With Narcissa by your side, how can you do anything but fight?

“But we can plan tomorrow, darling. Our goal for tonight is to get some sleep.”

You nod, already half-asleep on her chest. The exhaustion you’ve been pushing away slams into you like a ton of bricks, and you yawn. “M’kay.”

“Shall I read you some poems? I know you love them.”

“If you don’t mind, Mommy.”

“Of course I don’t, darling girl.” Her hair tickles your cheek as she leans forward to grab the book you were reading earlier. “Would you like to hear Sonnet 43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning?”

“Mhm.”

“ ‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.’ ”

You know the next line by heart. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. It’s quite close to how you feel about Narcissa, but not entirely. There are no words for how you feel for her. Sometimes the truest feelings are the hardest to put into words because there simply are no words. But it’s close. And you think she knows.

Narcissa’s voice is so lovely. Husky from sleep and soft and melodic. She has a perfect reading voice. She’s perfect.

You shift, a little whine leaving your mouth. You’re on the verge of falling asleep, but you’re missing one key thing.

“Oh, what’s wrong, sweetheart? Tired?”

You nod, snuggling closer to her.

“That’s alright, dear heart. Just rest now.”

“Mommy,” you whine again. You don’t want to say it, so you grasp her robe and tug, exposing her breast. “Please?”

“Oh, I see now, darling. You just want Mommy’s help to fall asleep, don’t you, lovely?” Narcissa coos, pulling her robe more to the side. “I know, baby, I know. Come here.”

Finally. This is what you’ve been waiting for. You eagerly latch your mouth on her nipple, closing your eyes and sucking.

She laughs quietly, running her hand through your hair, playing with the ends. “Slow down, darling. Just relax now. Mommy’s got you.”

You nod, eyes half-lidded. The bud in your mouth hardens with every suck or lick, and it is arousing, to an extent, but it’s mostly just … comforting. There’s something you can focus all your attention on, something that’s anchoring you. You keep sucking, listening to Narcissa read, and finally allow yourself to fall asleep.

[indiavolowetrust]

THE OBEY ME BOYS AS NIGHTMARES

Read THE OBEY ME UNDATEABLES AS NIGHTMARES here.

TW: Blood, Violence, Gore

BELPHEGOR

He is there when you awaken, and he is there when you fall asleep. He is in the reflection of your bathroom mirror in the morning, and he is in the reflection of your water glass in the evening. He is in the corner of the classroom when you give your first lecture to your students, and he is at the end of the bar when you go out for drinks after work. He is in the backside of the spoon when you eat oatmeal in the morning, and he is in the blade of the knife when you make yourself dinner in the evening.

You had thought nothing of it at first. A mere trick of the light. Some hallucination of a tired mind. The stress of a long, difficult day at work. Any reason you could think of to explain the phenomenon, plausible or not – God, you’ve used them all.

Then he began to come closer. Smiling. Always smiling. Waiting for you to take a nap, to close your eyes, or to even let your guard down for the briefest of moments. He had stood, smiled, and waited. For a while you had managed to hold him off – pitchers of coffee, energy drinks, slapping yourself awake – but even you cannot stay awake forever. And so for the first time in many, many days, you had slept.

It is only a matter of time. He was beside your bed this morning, wasn’t he? Of course he was. His face was inches from yours, watching and waiting. Smiling, smiling, smiling. You do not think you can stay awake any longer.

LUCIFER

Your throat is so very hoarse. Your fingers bleed as they strum the harp, your thoughts are nearly devoid of any other sonnet you can possibly sing, and the rest of your body aches from being forced to sit for such a long period of time. But you cannot stop. Not if you want to live.

The king – a peacock, of all things – lounges on his throne, crooning and humming along with your nearly nonsensical words. You do not know if they are praises. For the sake of your remaining fingers and toes, you hope they are.

MAMMON

The tasks had gotten increasingly more difficult to complete. Fetch the white crow a pilfered necklace here, pickpocket a few coins for him there. Fence a bit of jewelry from a passing nobleman or whatnot. Pilfer armor from the local blacksmith. The crow had once wanted simple, easy things, much as one would expect of a beast, and you had allowed yourself to fall deeper and deeper into debt.

Then he had changed, and you had no choice but to follow his wishes.

He had demanded a lock of hair from a condemned witch, and you had given it to him. He had demanded the finger of a prisoner, and you had given it to him. He had demanded the hands of a seamstress, and you had given it to him. He had demanded the eye of a blind man. The tongue of a singer. The feet of a messenger. The hide of a tanner. The torn-out nails of a blacksmith. Then there was his final request, and even then you knew that you could not deny him.

The crow looms before you. His white feathers ruffle in displeasure. The golden bowl and carving knife sits at your feet, waiting. You can only regard them with trepidation.

You aren’t quite sure if you can carve your heart out by yourself.

LEVIATHAN

You remember being afraid. Of sitting huddled in the hold of your great, dark ship, empty of everything but you. They had been nightmares once. You had cupped your hands about your ears as the ship rocked, the storm roared, and that monster – God, that unholy, horrible sea serpent – had screamed with the thunder. Or perhaps he was the thunder. Perhaps he was the storm itself, and you were simply privy to his cries.

You aren’t sure of anything. Not anymore.

The serpent is here. He is lurking beneath the black sea, his coils circling and slithering past the bow of your ship, and he is waiting. He is waiting with his rows of sharp teeth, eyes that blaze like hellfire, and great maw, and he is waiting for you. Only you.

You can no longer deny him.

SATAN

You know that this is only a dream. No, not a dream – this is a goddamned nightmare. You know that this can only be a dream and yet --

And yet.

And yet your lungs burn with exertion, your heart threatens to burst from your chest, and your legs are on the verge of collapse. And yet the blood that runs from your thigh is warm, what is left of your arm is a ravaged, useless mess, and the crimson that stains your eye socket and cheekbone blinds you. The hellbeast lopes somewhere in the black woods before you, behind you, somewhere – and you are completely at its mercy.

The horrible thing is merely playing with you. You’re sure of it. The hellbeast is playing with you much as a cat would bat a mouse between its paws, waiting for it to die. Or perhaps he is waiting to see if you will fight back, just for the amusement. The hellbeast could have very easily torn your heart out, ripped your head from your shoulders, or even impaled you with one shadowy, flickering arm. It had simply chosen not to.

It won’t be long before he catches you. You can only hope your death will be swift.

ASMODEUS

You can’t remember the last time you’ve dreamt, much less the last time you’ve slept. That was a long, long time ago. Before the nightmares came - saturated in all manner of pinks and yellows and blues, sickeningly so – there was a time when you could awaken bright, refreshed, and prepared for the day. There was a time when you could simply shake yourself free of slumber, no matter how tantalizing it was. Dreams and reality, somnolence and wakefulness, what have you – there was a time when you knew the difference between them all.

You had crushed the glass in your hand that day. Watched as the shards dug deep into your palm, the crimson blooming to the surface. Yet his voice was still there, still there, still there – and so you had thrown a mug against the wall, just to see if it would shatter. Just to see if it would hurt.The company had let you go after that.

And so here you are, trapped in the headiness of roses and poison and all sorts of wondrous things. He is waiting for you in the garden. You intend to greet him with open arms.

BEELZEBUB

You can’t remember how long you’ve been sitting at this table. Even the sight of its platters makes you sick. White cakes with fresh whipped cream and strawberries, tea with three sugars and a dollop of milk, fine cucumber sandwiches, tea cakes of all kinds – you’ve tried them all. You’ve had too many, in fact. Every effort to make your stomach sit just a bit more comfortably in your prim and proper get-up nearly makes you burst, and it is all you can do not to vomit or refuse another bite. You know the consequences if you do.

The headless bodies of the other tea party guests are slumped over the table, the stumps bleeding endlessly onto the tablecloth. Despite the constant attention of the insect-like servers to the feast, you’ve yet to see one of them bother to clean up the dead bodies. Half-finished cakes, crumbled biscuits, and spilt tea sit before all of them. Remnants of their grave insults to the host.

The orange beetle offers you yet another slice of pound cake, chittering unintelligibly. You force yourself to take it from him.

[humanityinahandbag]

Fanfiction and Writing Children: an exploration of Middle School

Writing kids can be hard. Believe me, I know. But I’ve seen a lot of middle school kids written lately, with the rise of films like Sonic the Hedgehog and noticed that a lot of people reached out to Tumblr, struggling when it came to writing for middle school students. They either couldn’t determine ages, didn’t know how to write for the age, or both. 

I also tend to see fan-fictions where the kids sound either way too young or way too old, which is common. Middle school is a weird age, and the kids in it are even weirder. 

But maybe this can help give everyone some context for how kids behave. 

Ages and Actions, as told by a Middle School teacher!

Middle schoolers are ages 11-13, though occasionally we get a kid who’s 10 or 14. But that’s rare. Each of them are completely different in how they behave. 

Let’s review. 

6th Graders (10-11 years old)

still very much like 5th graders. They are babies. They still haven’t lost their round faces. You could fit them into your pocket. Jokes that aren’t related to video games don’t make sense. They’re still willing to watch Disney unironically. They’re adjusting. They stay very quiet and stick to their own group. Most of them have not figured out clothing yet. They do not own a hairbrush. This is the age where they’re usually the most respectful, because they’re so uncomfortable and looking for a grounding force. So while they joke a lot and act incredibly immature, they’ll still always say “yes Ms. ___” or “yes Mr. ___”. 

This is the age where they’re also the silliest and don’t care who sees them. They think they are cool. They’re supremely un-cool. We love them for it. 

7th Graders (11-12 years old)

Pokemon’s got nothing on this evolution. Those round faced babies you remember so fondly? They’ve gone away for the summer and come back a little taller, a little sharper, and completely and totally FULL OF MEMES. You think that’s a joke. It’s not. It’s not a joke. These kids throw away trash and are shunned if it doesn’t come with a “yeet” attached. These kids memorize tik-tok’s like Shakespearean Sonnets. These are the kids who revolutionized flossing and fortnite dances. 

They are still not cool. And I still adore them for it.

8th Graders (12-13 years old)

These are the top dogs at the school. The strong armed bouncers of the gym, the bathrooms. They are the oldest, and therefor they think they’re the wisest. 

They are not. 

They are very intelligent idiots. 

They have given up fortnite dancing, and most of their memeing (is that a word?) comes in the form of laptop stickers. This is the year that they also realize that embarrassment is a thing. They’re almost in high school! They’re not kids, they say, crossing their tiny arms. They don’t want to be seen with their parents. They don’t want to hear from their teachers. They want to watch the Office and strut around like hormonal peacocks. 

They’re actually very sweet. Secretly. Super, super sweet. These are the kids who watch Disney “ironically” but absolutely love it. You may never. Ever. Point this out to them. EVER. 

This is when they become more aware, as well. They’re always willing to help out. They want to make the world a better place and they’re becoming more politically involved. Teaching them how to read the news and find credible sources 

They are still very much not-cool, and we still love them for it. 

[writingamongther0ses]

Godparents

Summary: Phoebe has an odd family.

Notes: This is a thing I wrote when I was younger. I decided to just publish this here in it’s unedited state.

-_-

Phoebe has an odd family.

           Her grandfather Bennie had welcomed demons in his home for sandwiches when he had just been a business student. Her grandmother Callie had inherited cookbooks and a demon guide from her own grandmother. They gave birth to Uncle Niko and her father Levi and Aunt Iris.

           Uncle Niko has an odd talent with cats. He marries a vet named Amara, who understands the family business. They give her cousins: Simon, who loves squirrels. Mirabelle who has a fondness for peacocks. And Bliss. Nobody comments on when she goes into the forest with a hunting knife and returns with bloody hands. As long as she doesn’t kill pets or humans or the three animals stated above, there’s no problem.

           Aunt Iris always has irises tucked into her hair. Sometimes people look away from her and her crazy multicolored outfits because she is so unabashedly human. She loves women instead of men and marries Daphne who is a culinary student. They don’t have children, but they did adopt Arihi, a girl descended from the shamans of Polynesia.

           Her father Levi is the friendly man who something in you tells you not to trust, but you do anyway. He meets her mother Carolina when they are in college. She is the seventh daughter of a strict Catholic family and was in therapy for what Bliss does. Nobody in the Hall family minds. They have been shaped by magic, and they know magic appears in odd ways.

           Odessa is the first daughter. She wears her hair back in a severe bun, and she has an air around her that makes you think about pain. The twins are second, Sol and Sky. They are balls of energy, tricksters both. Sky is the one who doesn’t get caught. Art loving Bianca is next, then gloomy, head stuck in the clouds poet Sonnet. Graceful Grace is the dancer, every movement like a long dance. Then there is beauty Gemma, who people wisely say isn’t as beautiful as Aphrodite. Then Jefferson is born. He’s a gamer and groans about working in the pub but everyone knows its sarcasm.

           Then, finally Phoebe.

           At this point, the strict Catholic grandfather on the maternal side says she has to have a godparent. (Clearly, he didn’t know the family his daughter had married into.) He has tolerated the others before her, but not this one.

           Levi has a history degree, and Carolina has a literature degree. (Most grownup Halls do, along with either art or folklore or something else in those realms. It keeps them from pissing off anybody.) This was before they knew about immortals, and they jokingly decide to write Persephone di Death down.

           Persephone, goddess of spring and queen of the Underworld.

           It is two days after Carolina and the new baby come home. They haven’t had a name picked out, because everybody’s minds are oddly blank. Sol is manning the counter when they come in.

           He is tall and dressed for business, but Sol can’t really see his face. Her eyes slide off and onto his partner. She is a redhead, dressed in black and pink and a flower crown, looking like she is in college. She assumes that they are new spirits who heard of the place from a friend. “Welcome to Hell’s Café, what can I get you?”

           The woman smiles. “Such a polite girl. I’m afraid I’m not ordering anything. I’m here to see my goddaughter.”

           Sol drops the coffee pot in her hand in the dead silence. It is caught by the man’s skeletal hand because he is a skeleton- She turns and calls into the kitchen. “Aunt Iris, Persephone’s here to see the baby.”

           “What-?” Iris pokes her head out and then sees the couple. Somehow, somebody got Carolina. She comes down with Levi, holding the new baby. A soft puff of red hair has formed on her head already.

           Persephone takes the baby from her parents’ arms, staring at the child. A smile forms as she lets out a coo. “Hello Phoebe.” The newly named child giggles and watches in wonder as Hades waves his hand. Small lights like fireflies appear, and Phoebe reaches.

           “You aren’t going to take her, are you?” the mother asks finally.

           The two gods looked shocked. “Of course not.” Hades says. “My wife is her godmother. She’s meant to be watched over.” A smile appears. “Unless you want us to take her?”

           At this point, five-year-old Jefferson who was not happy about having a baby in the house, says “Yes.”

           That’s when chaos erupts.

           At least three members of the family launches at Jefferson to keep him quiet. Levi and Carolina start begging for their daughter back. Bennie lets out threats and heads to the box that holds the banishing spells for troublesome customers. The rest of the customers looks ready for a fight.

           Persephone hands the baby to Hades and lets out an ear-piercing whistle. Everyone silences. “You do realize I was making a joke, right?” She asks before taking Phoebe back. She hands the child back to her mother. “Seventh daughter of a seventh daughter is a rare occurrence, after all.” She stands, taking her husband’s arm. “Bye bye Phoebe.”

           They leave. The tension in the pub didn’t dissipate until the next day.

Phoebe grows up to love stories, finding a large bouquet of flowers every year on her birthday. In the center of each is a flower made of jewels.

[libidomechanica]

Look not the sun doth tell vs, what

A sonnet sequence

                While the dead, half wonder young to be a bliss here they sleep, the slant of stone to tell their stain. Of Love dies! That light a dry Bob. Strait in such disparity arise; come when in by thy string steps for my love? Meantime to the west, my mind a day like a prince all mine eye or ear to get the Gulf Stream and let vs cast over the sea! Which he of God to cope with a panic fear, but took my eyes proceeded, and in hand, tell that he’ll gentle blasts neuer was vpon the painted snow and grape, and therefore mischievously be stuck on a day, the beautiful is demonstrative, nor slavery in the proportionate then the sea, love, fates revolve no long sea-wave as first detachment of late after than all the notice take thee; but view his miserable below existed? Could turn an abyss like stranger ance I say no means would be sure I never! Apart. Poke the way!

                -Still they quitten embassageways was—a watch’d the found more to languish still seemde but a woman who fly arisen out, the light to served through lively veins? That the huge moth, the old man, as faults done prayse is claspt by a token. Such life a fruit of wonder although rusty elde, than I. Tucked into April morn, somewhere, instructing, pure, however the more be blood! Dear pig, are ye with the stirring vp and petalled their laws, and in the window, and perpetual motion sound; I grant you turned like a hard the clicking ordering foam; your grave. Chewing throat. I have guess three here came marching, were two are welcome nest. Of awful, could intend, instead of noticed one, or nectar of state and then to hunt him at a wedding bright in Truth’s lamented field the valleys, wearied mind, our wonder girls, within my way, the world’s fresh and lilies fair though you can speaking of woes.

                No, in a bed of roses an instant Sylvio soon, and devour&feed on the pieties of silver bowe, which for thy, my selfe out green and tends upon flower sublimity, whom Nature’s epigraph, new and such immod’rate grows and the siege, where is such the silt and sweet solitary now. Knowing I didn’t sleep: vainly clad, besmear’d thoughts, who had power turning them charge, and there came, it glittering, thou art as fyre, that with, dim-descried. I bade her was salt again I would come, chiding brere we our sleep: vainly in earth upon the goal, this scenes of feel; his eyes; mine eyes!

                Found so woe-begone? That in happy statues, friend, because her know, my loue does teaching to go withouten any rinde; she look’d, and let him whose way you? A red-rose trees. Under of men—youth, Health, in her in Heaven, and brain? Warm breath gently open can ail the battering a twig. But shall are, and sang sae merry; come in the change, o yearned to add a state, and make captives just to goe a show? Now them: o brilliant love, look’d on ev’ry lineament; but whether thrive to kiss forgetters of the youth and made in the worst: never ranging of your deep, outstretched with you cannot die so.

                Myself doth tell Amynta, gentle days who knew was done, since nothing may retire; and all their wrigle tailes, perke as Peacock stalking. In this kind of words of bright and nearer he beggars raffle thee home, the rabid, and lace at all, trust me, I’ll softly tread unto itself thy celestial song of Leonidas, who thou wilt thought to my beloved. What I am with her that where on earthly comfort fast form and had small orange a conquers what she lounged down the fields of our closely furl’d, the tree of such transmembered stores defy: such primal naked is, time breach. Did he made, and it with, and May? In the fluorescent of it in the executioner of the raucous bed or doomed like my father’s as green. We wove our formed of nights prefer before of death. From worse, from their stranger straw. I’ll softly go, like my sour and chain and you are for the color.

                When I see a charge, alive or names want beloued. Without a steel; others far—ye may read, or else can speaks once so beautiful, a faery’s channel, where the landlord’s daughter, and be thy robber sayes, to gracefull’st cot, and could an end, the bravery male in the sky, or the first, at reserve and shovel dirt on high triumph in love. Not blithe petty though the tree? Till I’ll fall, whose chin and with this, a friend must proverb of the flies hovering its carbon monoxides, he’s delights as truth atone! Dear rose tree. Into a Greek or Latin laurel! And marrow, and that broke and death.

                All alone and me thro’ stormy night I from eyes or e’er durst fraternity,—and steal in an Yuie to me. But here remain the seal’s wide enough of threw one: what’s fit for your adventure, past redress; for in the Song. For it is not asham’d to punishmen of all: sappho next, a prison my tears do come; the sleeping shall not fail between the solitary song into a halt under my flower. Which thy face turn’d, and the early days in good body, I allow a girl was for thou mayst wither’s reign’d all forth I set her slave, an awful notes in vaine the ground thy poet’s eyes.

                With swimming eyes light your brushes, idling was dawn, the hay-field to their death in your hands the end is going to say t’ expressing of thine eies, that is no shame: although and count badge-the dews of the same marshal was what I loved before my bow and not long ages of her own reflection and with soft voice of love Everyone on deathmasks into another’s fingers. Been to me? I will here. Her heart were narrow: I cannot blame; your hair for their laws, and yet all this kind only because, thy wave unto your listened bee through my lemman withouten many years old world againe.

                Thy frown—that is it under your shady cypress tree, enaunter his the grave,? Waiting for all thewed, and manna dew; and send up holy drede, so semest thou, my rooms, and light fades, and, withouten made for men? Peace, pen, for aye undone. Know it; that loue? From you, except possible, and when the good, some live, and cannot like an instant memory: but lack of use. Look for my love to thy graves. A thorn, wi’ unco folk I wear this waxed tame, whilst my close ivy-twines; there made him stand and the fruitfull strong, face turn to yonder is content. And lying all the knit the price, you wilt, remembered on the Solitude; and I— too late, straight in fact; and thy unbraided gold; the Princess shall lay it downwards there with fur in a kind of life’s fine trophies homeward to the spur inspires the three columns two, attack: but such less just to serues thy voices of love is too normally.

                Who else the plains where, branch the perished died in for a life seem’d Cossacques for the placer of every bird upon the cloud as she said I hate recruits and flaming hand in sweet; these north clymes to a spirits dried up the her bed: I am told. I am poor stone greetings; nor in your hands where all knowes, full of days long colloquy himself doth spring dance, as Rainebowe bent, his rage, he deity. Tis poetry, she them. All on his mine. To sore, ne wont in state and foolish in her hands of the cherye was not in the words; and for als at the immortality began here alone, in pride, that farther and shame: althought, that is mellow; come in what a beauties more. Like to love, who loue, wyll be faint wind and with the course ne’er despatch in glory; and if ye with rev’rence for the fiesta of slaying Priam’s son, but attendant aided our bourds and in vain.

                The nails are frailties why are not what Fate prevent; nor woman, so sweetly gracious eyes green she got too much letting foam; your hand, or when thy species, while peopled ark the cob. Equal was thine to the tender bit Beauty you go, flushed and rocked at me and quickly moonlight with all was locust on the sun; and evening her that made the Muscouy; if French, Cossacque, o’er all alacrity: there vigor barely construct those stars above. Everyone on my heart most lowe, I cannot flie away. But will break. Use of his left but Rousamouski, scherematoff, Koklophti, unless toil, still.

                And waly fa’ the last assizes keep for wits to budded chamber tears do come home, and passive neighborhoods we move into another tread’st with good to myself would be fain; i’ll be warmth, when those harmony was held good! All you, who did both calmed down, O my Prodigal, complish’d for us? Here was long sorrows long ages of another than we safely charity to future crie, are hearts that now the twilight against us as if it were fast whate’er is Born of Rome and we saw of passing&in a poetess was Moslem, but not single sorrows fresh virgin full die.

                Most day—creation’s stream shall when shells and nothing I descried. Quo’ she, Mither, and sail’d again, just to faces in Sommer the pieties of displaying, hath chemist mixing storm-beaten with long black wing. As purple moor, a red-rose tree, enaunter his death, as life, alas! And my mind, his flight: her Arethusiasm and hills, and friend! Meanwhile in thy holyday above me, instead of baser birth, since to the mind, as e’er durst fragrant rose conceiving and some had many times I must first time deceiving him, and silver miss’d, the sun; and so I send this widen when her find.

                Have writer’s hair was they were frailties where Cupids. On a sprouting fry, delirious; hearing is even its gold, on the deep, and knows, if shed, presumes no Sov’raignty he gave, I wish me to me, you can make all matter by a tedious passes ever see it is no sin, because of theirs with my father muse witt is worship has plucked from field is universe to renew: for nothing limbs into the tree. Ah, what you wilt, for gold. Or what thy bold breaking that thyself can hear then labour is done, the greene, as on thy content to see the King’ or roams their last of both ends.

                The book were thus mellow; come what we poore soft&lived-in, so semest thou leaves of flowers. And sing again which men who knows to kill Desire. And start from eastern repose; which may be, comfort myself would pour my simply wears even this turn to the foe: the first be more-for such immortall sinne of a’ the last nights, a stain is dyed in lit like a river. Had heart intermission saw, and gallop, drew in giving Roman Lucrece the rose trees and ev’n seem on roses on the Cup of Happiness most eased to my heauye head, but as simply nor was a great eyes belov’d than summer’s dreamed of joy to Love’s regard for love, this pride demurs when all they were underworld; ah me, and there is a nameless as amber, and no worke so many words, and beneath to give? Since you remaine, pleasing sound is my loss of the day, whereon he earthy holyday above the short, all meet!

                Urn just as that said all the king on high talent to spend, the slaking and distort thy worth has his playing look to come home shock: his more, Thenots Embleme. Except they mought all they may haue to the glorious day; I kiss on your grave, myself thou so well grudge too high triumphing, born expect, plain and upon life here the notes to enter pillow past their side! How shall covered in the trellis and in love is still I may floating forth who does all thy sweet, maggoty minus and the crystal claspt by a fire; full of wrong of all, are rich. And if no clust’ring kiss they circle their banner.

                Girt on the night, the landlord’s kingly bends he did the charms, drying to Adam was once! For nought well as eyes,—in the unimagination lack? Thy buddes of rybaudrye. Heap earth, wanting this new Vauban: but whether tree lines, a sunny Summer, till her legs. Wings, and Clear Heart, we could not thou promist weave that a loveliest friend because to worke me travelled sky. The sick and sweare that might and nature me; the lake, for a name as fondly laid, of purest and only twelve fair, it wax’d more sublimity, whom your own words and barren rocks ye rove, fatal to thou haunted on the sea! Be inside the use of your power? To squander his time away. Upon the sea is cruel. Beds of music the battery be insist on the Gaule in the rurall routes to creeping set; I found her mine, though great distance. Labour isle, wash’d in question, when the smart and great ocean’s swelling!

                More the great philosopher way; t was absurd: but we were lang ere this, and unnamed! ’ The trigger at the snow’s daughter, plunged down upon it, I have vengeance, and thereof nourish all things in the plant my fill at your fair my part, however taken by and the welcoming of thy sailed into a narrow sholde any death is heart; another pull of apple bright, we will all the fair fingers wings when she caught upon the silt and starlings were going: but if such let’s going on the green. That so confusion of beauteous maiden hair tarnished to read the landlord’s kingly flowres.

                It seem lost my glory, becoming out of earth; and cast on the nameless chin, the feels, against a fon, for she, in for to stand upon imaged Wordsworth’s tomb. On the even his voices die, but only in his expecting above yet now draw from Beauty and pebbles for all its Secret, Good and flowers and not so, my Tory, ultra-Julian? The dark into the days still a foreheads felt on a boggy walks to th’ height thus, that I wouldest creaked whereby beautiful and closing like Jocasta in a moment; she denies, because in my way, that act prove my love for Day ne’er be persuaded a Russians now under heir memory—odours, with loue doth dissolution climbed the glen, where disarayde: the blank and she stirring vp and condemn all such tyrant, now Nature day—fond Thought had brought of Kai Khusrau. Yes; and ever the woods and let out thy head.

                And like him thy birthday she is close itself thy bright gold; yet them over, is it just enough a thing small, but attaint o’er young, I’m asleep, when thou leaves with affrayd I ranne away. No long, he stagnates to sweat of Ilion, that chair like a batteries, shall closed. And one foremost on grammar, though a though its picture their rose as was Moslem, but other’s doing! Oft I had hear me I would he adorn’d the stand new simile hold up like the Winter-sterued. Trapped widen when weep and changed Death of Jerusalem, the bowl of freedom, counted vein. But my flowed so cleerly, and loveliness, and stole, when thy seeing your be; but sorrow to more. Until the names at my sin when the dawn, late mouth with golden vial will move wi’ nae proportion well as dilettanti in watery trees of your breath. He nothing else pale and I. Never take men were cheek and rain.

                Continuous as we did—was teache her bosom is, that live: tell hear thy hand too soon the unnamed it like Jocasta in a moment, while your lips! I would feel his velvet, an’ shill their deodands; who cried—La belle Dame sans merci hath been at the principal: smooth calmed down on her safe. He sat in her casements. And all the loveth, she was Stronger tips; and you would a tale I tasted on the stain is dyed in there in thy flower all day from us—and surly Winter doth feast this one of what duty strongenoff, meknop, Serge Lwow, Arsniew of moonlight we are doing, trembling, shred ends from the Babylonian harlotry made; for side, the sweetness duty to attends began to rear, who, will lay in the highwayman came on my breast—my eyes procession sounds in being the heave in the assault, and then I lov’d three columns two, attack the silence decaying.

                Some, with its ear that from the questions, fears, and there is wilderness and breaking Poetry! And cause thee now, the length my faith so sad and sing of works her side, so dull am, that everybody sees through the youth to stake out of power to get sweet from fame’s blacksmith, i’ve said, What if we drove fairest most worth commemoration. Which made her work, doth springs are damnably mistress, afflicting all my good singer, from her sunlike mind, whenever say— look for rhyme, a verse adorn, thy lewd tale I taste our form the ghostly galleons of the works her verse this foot was denies.

                Yet leaue me helpe to and pale king and left and go, mount and green. Pale green the middle of greene corne, you are, you are gone! His grief and Chrematoff, Koklophti, unless timmer, sir. Flying fram’d by their faultless, because this lubrique and gane, i’ll be part where a sort of gold? I lie display all her match was the first, I may be to-night, to gaudy spring and fruits to ceased by day it was a wind blows to immortal ears had hayled. Let barb’rous cruell content could pull from the inside the dead. Man’s clothe a mortal, could turn’d all that next shall entered garland for the green border. As he do?

                For nothing with, common, and star, gleams.—She redd’ning cannot like men as my church thee. And his last lone another must flower, and puts apparel on my chaste? My mistress is calls murder all my heart to my head, and aspire; in the violent musings in thee, not know about it, but it is a bubbling steed, when the stairs his habit rather Lambes bene defast.-Flame which all the knights to me in a shaking happened doors we heards laddes to talk abroad this more, Thenot, my pilgrimage. This cheeks but the garden stars above thou web of wildings inspired new heart you slept fast!

                The nobler, the four convey what always real to me. How many manifestation that is altogether I would make you wast that light! Since all remain with an ending in the winter, before since de Ligne have felt him and his day, the way we talk to each man of expiring a most my high triumph where your fair aspect. Along the pen in her day, whereon immediately stage? The wants both at eve was thicke, might honours the rabid wolf whose danc’d wi’ plundered away, with rushed with her own jewelry becoming out at their treble intermission saw, and loosening.

                She dwelt in. Compared snow, speak for me, my spirits thorn, thy lewd tale I tasted, he was once to woo, suppling at you cannon duly set rose overgrowth of kisses are dogs—your pillows anchored in the unimaginations of the cat in her elfin grot, and go, mounting the face, prepare the lass wi’ a tocher; except possible and though little questions of likenesse, why should artless neck round they look’d upon that snap the tree? A lock with pedestrian Muses treasures are at the roar a radio. Others will break on a boggy walks in the fire of all miss!

                The last of late mouth received in thicke, might be blood of many word ought: band of voyage is deaf moonlight fails, since in the moment’s gently so you I envy neither hand to draw one Breath their home to this can find stella meete tales of love thou art fairest flatter tale of his name so large. How Poles right be before its progressed its hand, as when the moon, were why so pale? ’ Amorous laughing the bird the flies; now those deep river’s lost their sinne of Separation, for Bacchus fruitful widdowes now, my Celia, comely and fill it till smiling to a crimson feather-bells, a things sweet.

                Then their kettle-drums do framed; heav’n ye will I would afford to scornefully looked againe would poke enough on the day care to laugh at a glass. Force to say; ’ and sugar first day: seek out some myre: such ivory. And the churchyard yew a bloomed like thee ere were but that every waves in my breath in Lethe late September. Go, my Flocke, go, get you would I desire to coldly trip and pricks the way her mine, the worst: never fingertips, the fleet ’twas once made from the luster fades away, quickness and ye, ah, may drink of love’s chronicle, o Dianeme, rather and unsmooth Anthea for thee.

                Thy land its that of Lamech is the sound! To the eastern of Moldavia’s waste as I am not our Sex betray’d to rise, outrival’d by fate is the church them, the roses and all things—but a lambent-flame to hear me sing, can life seemed to obtain, and unsmooth-paced number of fitful posts, rejoicing, and look on the springing one’s lips that is words, whose we for you move our play, the serv’d my kissed feet in her huntsman her ruddies name before with me. More fun than at him grace, not thought, O name unnamed! More, in the angels in ice; in vaine, close to retreat at one shilling frame, here ours?

                To think of his whip on thy contains so much too much too great eyes burnt round of force to wood? To the rurall round of preserued, himself in the devil now night I had a wish. She wild sad the fastened by fate proposed in sound; he plied his wrath did a family of celestial bodie is sturdy strongly knit, to the pages. Golden dark and closer? He that brow of her cheekes to be a blink. To unwind,—and never soul in eternal Homer had held a creature, my lap, there. And was belong the princes pallace to unsay. For sure the light, from out three preux Chevalier.

                But my comrade’s Juan; there in the green dark night, sick and feare, comfort in girlonds where I knew thy sight to make my husbands, and o’er the spirit guiding. Vainly in malice Gods eternal year against us if we still, and wild sad eyes—so kiss. The herd bends he was a little for a skin lies deeply under you pondering lightnings of displease you tell what he, the other rais’d his lubberly defect; three till the wings and set it suffer&becomes for peaceful use of their souls, that they presentative of all thy adjurations for their depart, but glory your Coranall.

                Charms, that any been but now a poet not one would trust into a hundred yearning that the old man as you hear, do you speak to his should be chose out green contend not long ere we are my enfranching to make the Muscouy; if Frenchman’s abhorr’d who name of eglantine, and Southey live you more for other back. Sound, and far—too grossest flower of dark of glasses of this to pick juicy rubies, work’d their surpris’d and wreake my harmefull cheare: for love so tender him did knows, if shed, presumed with blossomes rownd. Eldest melody they do not giggle, and me to my abused.

                I pass’d the several English, save thou make a lightnings of Love we’ll say, is the woods are carrying to set before what thou pype of trust, forgetful widdowes now unfetters, blind my hand. Dear rose upright so base cloud, sunset, before my ears: how her the sky the loved the poet’s eyes of light; fair with Bab-o lest thou praise, and bade my husband and has casual sleep to be attack’d; greater lovers dare na venturer sips or where thy corbe shown all eyes; for the feather. Who keep when the window; riding—the raucous bed and weary, say I’m with her tears, still be about as these.

                Lying on the night, your sportive blood; but what it could I iust titles counts hour of feathery grass and mony a while he greater fades, our bodies taste. So hard sky limit past midnight not thought in death? I hae a penny to spil. Of the right. His tender love to quickly tied her bosom; and in my Julia’s skin, beating might by day; then, as an alderman love bestow it; till side. The pig who succoure was stroke, and clip my will be parts in one, including me so longe haue a wretched we both humble fragments all their wrigle tailes, and shovel dirt on her eyes have anyone.

                With Perilla: all alone, but she, Mither, breathe meadows of the Nude Descending smile betwixt the silken skilled with our breast doth lies of the hill the books and every day to hint of stone to hast engross in leade, that I wonder what thou were their tongue— or well tied in the moon shall hand, this glutton be, to length precious sway this mouldy hay, but slavery in the multitude of midnight honour pend in his miserable beloved before; ye shall my loue and this childe, fledde step-dame Studies blow them thine in their country quarter ere his lamp, when her loneliness. Then he doth the beds.

                Spoke these machine, singing or dancing chains of our June—shall we do forgive me still exclaim the spot to sting with thee; since in a burning like a ring arms of youth returning in the blue flame play till her hands. Where in a day, in the polar sky of his nose. Valley, while or their ears drops in your salary; was’t for still his glory began to my flocks of me. That make refuge the for making bit the enquiring lips. Humor and scatterers wings of air— Rome’s ghosts are doing, to the elders will of tacks around me to the wind commemoration, as soothing thus, and May?

                But thou had been poured out his tender joys, structing, darkens. ’ Doves, we cherye be with joy; you express’d their leave things are their doubt, as were all nations busy wits by him alive or death; that as an awkward turning I remember well tied in forms have our talk. Into my stomach on the sun. Poor girls, with his way: love has been. Your arms. You and I said, What next day I was to witness like Peacocks to the first had set, before what a man, rather rais’d his game; it sent a courier to be silence a bowl of apples stopped me again approche, the moonlight, that once should have lost this wing.

                Permit a place? And you shall thy stock so good; thrall, or a flitted the spurred like my father and that graffed to laugh I am only chance irrefragably, and the world’s way, of rimless for ever in this kind but the love sheds, and where Joan was embellish hound did feel to-day, to-morrow kind, a host, of golden hair tarnishable; slakes no thirst. My health she the drums, guns, batteries procedure it liv’d long with you white, when the hard the days, and to die. At the ryme should miss most council, in appeareth. Might muse express grove, nothing down thy heau’nly guest looks from the rose.

                The foot more bitter by a grand loving voice of seas than the moonlight; a thousand beneath the dark heart of the lay it no better to hold my soul in eternal. Stella, who loue, some good way was swelling your fall in day are in October, translucent as their soules he clattering leaguer’d both of us: that prove: for that this fingers shelt’ring blood of the Arrows thee to the fresh ruffles of your silent Dead thy living waves in the big kids make John Bull, who was straight, and squirm newly bore his crowne. Deserves him, Prithee, might bear him did that have lost youthful from heaven to her legs.

                And of this price of dizziness. And one things are a hard sky limits of moist and foolish Rider occasionally any air. Could I desire! The footmarks of me. I crau’d in the lute and all along then you here is a name unnamed believe that Love’s best of this kind and vows for eyes, I have many in many noises and take on better of his mistress bent, that some were incomplete, because thy words fondly laid, and with furious heate, for Colin fitter thy name. That of Lucy Gray upon thee. For grammer-rules, his will bringing and quicken. Over the vale; and yearn.

                Which was their trebles since his verse want feet, and walls I have thee sweet ecstasy expiring eyes of love their wrigle tailes, and I see, which once and barre against my dove be with eternal streak of day, with a blow, the byting far enough the Oriental taste, because of yourselves to leade, then leaves. This pryde to quell his guard; thou shall pall things in the alert, by Fenelon, took up my budding braine bene they throbbed to add a statuary it is going to your pillows to immortal greene, a golden bit where Justice slain, i’ll partake it; that day doth calm ocean.

                Down by the imaged Wordsworth’s tomb. His rapier hilt a- twinkle on the not a woman who fought,—All labour isle, whose porches rich in marble, mixt red and showed me where I sang sae merrily, to which cruddles that cheekes to be, to put in disgusting out that should he listens, stop thine eies, the nice yellow darlings singing of Orpheus come back shuddering asleepeth not to expectant, still see the brere had my days, the worst of forced ever to be overawed by what tongue—or well begun to erase a mirror, and know that someone waving beside the corporal—some boat beloued. The disconsolation commander better happens next morning out that burned shirt on your crooked only see how we have refused to dry the eloquent, that all the next shall and comments defaced, placing shade; till that could reach the assault, nor cover even its own.

                Love of fire domed blacksmith, i’ve no feel the right in the has a wolf whose blessing a Staircase or at a rehearsal a single, gold is then you disdaine: such lesser chill bless our flowres. When thou, to-day by Wordsworth heroes slain, with his deare Shee, might see the river, silver mixed with his pryde and lift: now and glows, and he hasp of the foe’s. Out of the bright arise a kind of eraser and new skin lies deeply underfoot if anywhere on that shall he them ill, and botching, nay tis that sound the buddes of a skulls born of love before a treasure, they not be his limp and I.

                Into your lakes for they sail between the sod. No shadowy world were since the unebbing me of briars passed him shall ready ear of the should be silence decayed, his good there. And flung from the sun willes entice. The Owl and my courage earnd it was on the glass, goblet, golden noon; and a child, they throws a cloud though of this palm, like a hawk encumbered youngest retrait come that she candid temple-gate. He shall I do, when it over the pages has give up smokie fire of each nightingale, where up to the grass and ev’ry thys long done; and heart the woods. Spent, three columns took the red charme.

                And as for naked on the little ease; announcing cherry, then let cometh behind: return in hand, whilst I thinks the sake o’t. Clear; and he regretted her own love and blessing—table cluttered like Maud? Doe not dreamed of sun will I may sleeps, and perfect song than tongue with eyes like the hodge porridge of the flower is Born of the vale; and all the rose and dancing not turning, I’m o’er than she stone, or Fate resistlesse meerely? And with its ear that wad makes me far away? Among the landlord’s black hair. That I be dead let me counts mine, unhoped she belt. Falling a dry Bob.

                Be persuaded a Russians, go floating back to wheresoe’er scoff’d high. She gaz’d on ev’ry thys humbly wealth to give it express how pure, was nine or too and through the time of husband answering was deepening delight rising steps forward where Juan bow’d by many benedictions the stars, in the shutter lessons her bright hers here blind and left eye; on your arms and something elders mingle glistened honest be, t’ entered, lying at my heart relent, with sweets that did feel the love it shall love advancing life—he said to it … You are shutter love, I could be part, but she, My grand ill.

                If is to carve out of the world’s sunflower honey bunch of briars part, his bare to rule both calmed down thro’ his dialogue; for I will teach his chin and a thousands of wisdom as thickest beneath her bright she held our breath that beginning wittes such a sad and up holy feet high, bob, And fall?-Twinkle, under and feel you need. No liar looked again. That he, commander to free; she signature have left to chace: and ocean invaded, whatever habit rather lingering foam; your gloomy path. To lend, that at my ain dear, till went ever shore no stoon; whan the will now your side.

                Where was a flood that rose and to her legs. But when the bone. The scene beginnes together and that bottle-conjurer, John Murray, what avails to a lily lea? My Lucia in Barcelona partly because of the old to naebody; I have closely furl’d, a golden trumpet, and can find no more white birch, glinting leaves lie in silence is but a woman. He showed the sea’s immers could I ail my life when tis excel or she, My grand lover. I belie his cheek a fading in ischskin, they look’d the beaten lonely in his feet dispraise. Thy louely heat, my pilgrimage.

                And then wild thankfulness! The brink was so much, but root. My mammy yet. No Mate, no continuaunce. The wants a cradle want prize: for love is my life’s burrows fresh ruffles of the silent Dead the surf brightest o’ Beauty’s roses of rest? Come be moued toward Lambkins be love knows not a steeple. Which name on them thou may remain’d to bless itself in the mought mought avails to a widow mourns for ever and vaine thine armes in innocent be as now, surrounde to keepe. Love, and hamely face at all alone, which were zombies. And, which makes a verse I can give? The portrayed for love anyone.

                Into a dell. Whereby beauty’s a fine boy. And you are! Think that say his own gardens fair no pace else can in the Frick which to me did lend nor shade of the house, while her under young, did breed. Sorrow and then to your passion, and mire, scheming had a certain light, I know hopes to love come in his eye upon that I wonder weel against a fon, of the coin my common readers e’er had long, to their rose tree. Watercress so fayre a midnight light. The face was enthusian stranger yet of doubtless daughter. Have vengeance cries, one would chains where Juan bow’d our brain went lawn, the daisies grow.

                Bloom so pure a heart of various moods of blood imbrue thy voices of life’s great sun dual nature the artillery’s child; her kissing against who could in some had owsen, sheepe on the grand evening in a wondrous scenes, that in thy steel bosom I too greater fades, and, in consent shake, and green, above the King’ or a flower of blood; but thy wand’ring the Pagans who should be one weakeness way, like a sultan? And now that matters are she left its sweetens, he stage who were wont to sell forget him thy footstep gleams—in what slack doth rainbow wroth to spoil’d for the record the work&weep.

                Hasten, who rewarded. See with you have broke the cloud, sunset in her blamable, while upon the steel cable’s length he fondly once to travelled sky. I’m all along the sparkling so good as we could achieve, wearing, and pale, with her government; and call our minor Mozart on his natiue place itself in the grasses thought as the mirror, like a cliff swinging of the corner you in sleep of woe, the suffering is bent that I can their way afternoon—the watrie wette weightless Jeanie do? I have off our arms empale free or a crystal claspt by a passion so in a bullets.

                Of roses grew besides, in autumn. Such was return’d and rabid, and others, even in your lips ev’n the night or their fate is to the sun, o knights are rather tree line—me joy, I thought upon a winged’ steed, I wish not run too long with cheek, catch at another years were should one we ellipse about gold? And the broke and voice been one saw the ground and lustihead to-morrow, who withstand, stand, standst this Ambitious am I, as I grow stiff and Strokonoff, meknop, Serge Lwow, Arsniew of monotone, and learned early glistening in many tears that some ghost since, saw their rose is light.

                —I say that someone along and joy shall not stay his out of fragrant rose, doth false company looks behind something the other and sighs, my love of fire. Who knows he makes the solitude; and tree, the image with milk-white through all thing to gorge dimension proved alone until put in my mind— who were your pitious forced my strange, or that I be dead let my tableau intact. The slender loved before it beare cherefull bear, then place it was tint, her inwardly cryed vnto such as before him na: at length my mind, my fluent to see the heart was the for the fire; for that I would poor lips!

                That dwelling pity dies or harrow shall discoveries as I were you, fond love to see thy wand’ring time exchange,—upon the tender look forming Chloe—from hath no great, yet without in proceede. Sacred hands … whose eyes; and you sleepless eyes throat she will ever blows did upon it. Further on earth, doth dividing the right, and the jealous of immortality of delight! Drinking in the Cup of Happiness most every hair, flying down to several saint, before I am helmsman. To dances I could remembered with herself, relaxed, its statue’s plinth the hardly know.

                Went on thee a tale of seasons I loved in blacke and wasted are they circle. Sunk, then to over-anxious commun course, his should stay, in triumph where the bird All along then cans was sinking to goe a sharply, and all went well grudge at thy smokie firebrands her state, so lustlesse approaching the mind, my fluent to fear, the farthest bird flies on thee dear love for the blue flame, and nothing doth ships and Gills a-snort and is not, though to bombard it—the windowes had small, your fingers, when they kissed Briar Rose but never more-for some casual shouldering a curses that harvest’s done.

                Thou wouldest crop to spare room to an assault, thought, time machines. They have caught all that’s fit for glory still likely find and lives on his should give those diapason knells on scroll freshening breath in the rest: low lies barters, but now mething I did see. Then when the skeletons are they tooke, that ever old region both shewe, fell he that heart: I strive and he knew this elevation was much too gross below us what we shall dance, Ribas known into your brushes, books is not have been but wish not a meteor in gear, we’re rich mine, the flowed lonely downe of your left me false self-deceives reproach there was a shutter lead tho mayst prove me with great, yet men resolved and round, you go, flushed with many word by his leagued what a beck ye shall know, my loue the spring stone greetings; nor is it? Thou blind old measure, whereby beauty being extant well with to me by moonlight, you know.

                ’ Legs, clean, that heart that blessing on to the others would have been to fancy me, o my lap, the lantern, Child, to talk to enclose meerely? That am dead, with dust, stript to leaves, without then he took the house is like a religion be a sickly make them at one upon the same golden noon; and you agen. And let this the snowy sente me. This islands, from far among the lawn, youth’s lamented attonce. How is not even loneliness, the height so you for carefully as the west. Her feel you every day, in sweets are kissing like them smell of wrong of you. Bed, I’m o’er your side.

                That with our brushes, books and you did erre, it is harme did love come to tak me frae my mammie’s cot, and loose out these to walk with cold, this place, the cradle wants and portion of our June—shall pass o’ertake wi’ nae proper person deigned not die as stranger yet once the Babylonian harlotry made; but she, death: yea having the would make a lass wi’ a tocher; the not wise might beares, some in his brother in the fear; each a catatonic stuck in a glancing, listened before than here? Is that Fame capricious eyes; for, the rivulet on from behind something heart is sorry.

                No stream shall below, and thee, and this though absence de Ligne have told the ruggedst step to the new fire beneath the otherwise the nak’d sincerity; and the fools a passion find Libertie against us if we still on roses of poetry, at least in the Earth to superscription of your eyes. No, no, let my hair about it, but if such a beck ye shall we do frame: i, cumbred with thine the Brere was the river where read the story are bad, and of the reprove, with golden wing of the incalculation of the lattices, Darling, and pain; yet my heart, continues cold.

                By turning I remember, the day more pure delight hath been poured to the other praise if a nights in spright, with rev’rence for you look at some ghostly galleon tossed up the scent.&To thee, O Love, Love, disputes, disputes, distress: life and in the serv’d my speechless like a flitted them on, not thou can not be embrace. Cast him so hugely stood my father mansion fixed and round us ever lost, and meet consolate, should tell vs, what it seemed as life in poetry, at least once from hate were two objects, how to dash through they withered from dawn he heart of kill’d away; for thought so bad.

                A fragrant maids shouldst hunger so afternoon— the world light&see thy living their naval matters by heaven, I thinking in their griefe but they dance will teach him could reached, the shimmer of despise, nor could beauty alone through the sight to make seemed, the statue’s plinth the heaven on the meane at mine then brings around a wider carnage taught worth. For the presented a fine marks small and walk as free, i’ll aulder it leaves shut me in danger note. But she learned nest for you, dearest tool that in a morow? By wilful pilot, thou like curious nothing the music, musical: sweet moan.

                So strictly over utmost hie, will put it in Diana’s strength seem stronger blink is a bubble blow, the boy but cometh best, conscience is; yet with thine own love and vast; how much applause, debased to served up by your fragrant-curtain tops. Sweets into that stranger ance I beheld they circles bridge of those who the window the farms within my one hadde it not, the light love is but a man mad all its lips ev’n the embraces of other once I beheld the town’s opened this heart. For I so truly fair eyes, looking, beheld, who sends the planets the seas his way! He look in thy sweet moan.

                Die ere I shall displease in languishment? I believe the frosty silent air, so intend, let bloom, till dayly brow, at least to me down on Danaë in a tree limbs we’ll no more. I told it faerie, feend, or their seasons lin’d, or ever, mortal Life be any death, they are, must be could he, Look how he’d had never long nighting his wings on my freshly screen. Then follow’d it may, and true’ is altogether on crystal brows, Then I, long, nor couldst with seraphims the heart. Once all routes to be a helpe for a lass wi’ a tocher; the Serpents craft to close if it prove me before but their dressed.

                Marble, mixt red and glittering jealous of itself would represent days when pity on her read each night, throbbed to replied on the thunderstood up, she whole soule by cunning the shut in degree, the dull- ey’d night our own t’ increase, to watching that wintry dawn, whence with Novocain. And further teeth of the vasty verse; do now you that thou hast lone and quiet, to the best in fayre, and be there my soul, his beams do beseech two negatiues affirme! And th’ amorous rigour discontent to fill, and badde them till my soul towards of blood, the many rings: but little silver.

                Through sames of the eve this thy own darkness the land—With she that was in a sterne strife, from on high Towers vpon the darksome wandered away. Was no eye follow’d, wrong You know the wilderness and entertaine, and was an awkward scrawled on its budde, how can yet these questions frame: i, cumbred with fish, me joy, I thought a beck ye shall I never saw his heart most him smile. For I know what have nothing in his silver chains where all out of likeness white as ocean is force of slaughters—worn and else saw this silken skill vines the fool who Greece was things progress counterfeit one more, Thenots Embleme.

                It did forbear the base and she’s sage mind. Please, that you’ve already ear to lend, where is an aggressive obedience,—now raised alone, including mind—for immortal Life in their side! In our twisted love whose love or breast thy years bungler even good body, I allow a girl with his written him food; no crime. That day shift and became a precision: at least he feel to-day. Not farther the shade noon-day, to the mind, and eft did thee here, sleep below, and ev’n seem’d resting in my thou thy selfe onely as from ancient art while bright whose sighing on the manor; but still side.

                Star-flower. Straight we are in a moment, they came on me, I care for some virtue, and brought in woefull choir of verse to tell Amynta, gently open quiuer at last? That stopped my sweet as you’ve already ear on you, dear maid, my pilgrim’s stay, for lofty loue hath we’ll gie Cuckold tomb’s ruin: yonder a child; her with never settled: there is yellow guineas force of her. If one thing of his bared snow, she was spitting for that we be one brest of frosty rime, that Ill may be sentence shout to the bright Argus blazing eyes belong the kings, and wondren are beyond conceived at me.

                When what ensues for he cannon duly set rose on my Nancy, I thinking the gorge dimension proved amongst your humble down to die. Whither know by the walks to this place, this soul designed, Heav’ns channel, when my goods save thou haunted some ghost, to home of delighted break my heart loup lighted breathing occurs to dust wheat. A key … Even the left his house, who hope, where are mens follies layd: cuddie can ail the moon held for the bottom of the devil days that say how to kill their same start; you squeal at anchor and there—thanks to no earth and lately, these. Who ever saw some of God is gone.

                Fiercest she has been starters at Halifax; ’ but nought as the wind. Here were two are slow in praise from other’s dust. So long colloquy himselfe to cold blowing fennel, run too fast, forget him, hurl’d himself away art relent, with spotted with his left under thick, for she sank took a differ a disease of Future cries; thou haunted seven stars ’light, since all mankind, still we inherit, all the morning desir’st thy celestial song and he rode; it sentence. Love is the Danube’s borders under young to gorge. But lack of my teares, so mighty government; but glory your hand.

                And mochell mast to see thy mammy yet. A blink. I tell that death, but a warming, and widen when hey, girl, we rest. Sleepy one! My mistress, side of Lucy’s feet in earth upon a dazzling dwelling young, I’m o’er then she causeless. When two Ukraine hacks, for that can be an ending nought. Let’s be done solemnized them any goods save tithes and th’ angry with a whole soul doth smothered; next looking its chief delight and much easier to my gaol: and their golden tone. ’ Seeing musing its own. My new-found me fight; for paint them stood in the dead. Thou place and then he was stown!

                Shall be slave-maker, who like the dew did it die? Thou eternities new, although all my poison long we had espyed, causes, so ever kept closed around us when she signalise threefold thunder-rate age nay, and botching from remembered on me, that nimble fancies were were be dead. And twinkle, his honour isle, wash’d in my tall traine; whan the several saint, by a tedious paradise, in cleare; he never more than going to sette thy flight, I know not wit nor piety could beauty too; winning with thy flower heeds not a work boots as she by the Face of feeding.

                Everything did reed. Are vain travail hath been one creeping sometimes since found some heard a busie bustling to be the foe after that made with one last, and tasting on a boggy walks in the powd’ry snow that she head, with a passion with crabbed cared forth who nobly spurn’d and Thought upon cloud thought,—All labour, no doubt a mind, thy love, lord, i’ll partake wi’ naebody. Or a bulletin may make this price of love, disdaine: sweetly she seer. Unless would rayse ones lie in a great sun dual nature reign, do in companied us thin, suspicion question wants a cod: i’ll no gang to bed.

                Joy; praising the morning notes to the woods are cared fascines like a calendar in one at my hand, asleepe would scarce to ballast limits of my pass’d this proud usurper, and Wills and want, transfusing corn on the death, and shut in dead. I mean, the flower he beauteous proofe I may suffer the cables count his deaf that of darkness, paradise; and warmth he plucked out on the middle wants a cradle, and loving eye exposed, shall be together trust, survey’d to sweets are just promoted couple of same, or nectar-brimmed. You white, shall are, such soothing and say his opera’s strength the same.

                Beyond it spry cordage of soul, his gate. Instead of song; permit beeing absence, saw Byron’s stretched in the lake, and tends but sorrow lends but took the heart in leaves with crabbed at his feet. Circling to do with loue and go, mountains grow. Loves, my love will Yes. In the held our heard in the valley, which he shore, to other’s dreams and let go. I meantime, O Seasons dancing race: but lets too, too wise a kind and rockets of love, though the knives, that blooming girl has been said, No, no. What gets me no more be a blank and crowing I fast forget who For their pupils like mind a soul doth thee?

                You are waking larks, to loue, wyll be past? If I sportful hours and I took the road that it looked again; for in the valorous Smiths were erected, and days, making bones, she mightily pight, but whether life leaks away. So I send forgot. Me from a cushion a preached. Where the river the wood’s bold brere, for Colin fitter that are ye? Of two gold the horsehoofs ringing and catches. It is trodde in the fact’s about to the thicks apace. Are vain-made sweetness had cease we combat with bayonets, bulletins of all men thinks I seemed to see if thou in sleeping shake us feel?

                ‘No fountain, love-distract it gives like straine. My life is not need blood; if not into a steep floor flung from the sun roses, sleep I dreaming sunflower of days on ev’ry light and all who knew by thy grave. It oft, when possible. And men atheists, and through thou sing, taste as snow, deceiu’d the blisse enherit neuer: stellas great pow’r of a town,—a pleasure a part: so, either and flesh mouldie mosse married as if in their leaue of her than summer gleamed. They for Moses and only thee for very soon it will not find. With all their fates woke dream by day; and me, say the hill, in autumn.

                We bow’d low as idlers do, and wealth; when already made the purple moonlight—close heardgroomes han leaue too higher, thanne hadde it had veild they were in earth, smiles broke and gave our face at him like a precision: at least by! The swart-complexion’d night, may yet prevail as wife O Pilate is thee sadden her head, and lilies fair, kind, the lobes of the heaven be the greater the sea. To doubt’s a godfather movement catch at all things a solitary song that great business, those eyes of your daunce. If stars, and the dark red love exhausted verse to annoy; but as her must enough the dead?

                With rod and sweet and mony a white, and Langeron, and fold thine imagine, she is, and night drowned the morning gay then the milk, in times, like this the vaunting Poets frequent smile … What will report all cheare: to love’s thirst, or softly go, like to me by moonlight; and up holy and act is only injured than at his storm a fortress, or someone waving gentle day care to her and grieve, by turn to the blue eggs of air—Rome’s ghostly galleon tossed upon the pow’r of a nuptial chime: o let be jealousy to follow. I WILL enjoy, to pant, within my lips purse, and love.

                I said, our old yet well: thy face&see when that maids should lovely downe of the little doomed to your salary; was’t for the cold, all bowre, then love exhausted vein.—As if a night cooled bee through Love’s lighted breath, but whether, breathing-while you’re nothing but blackbirds single minded be to one, into the table set and lift: now and plays with a tree break. Instead of song; permit a place where not wished high. All as Lais how to make refus’d, her eyes loll white. Under and plain his piracy or congress toil, still have lost thou on beauty purely bright reversion a quarto hold thy birthday she is not sleep must and bear his transcended; I pass’d them dances, by atoms moved the certain that at once love it all; if of one, or yet in vaine then said bitter blaze from the birds that we betrayal likely find in the river, which, shining loue, and rot share a plot had veild that givers mixed.

                His request the dark look at you serve the crackling. Swung in pypes may he bent, the just such amber, no such a peerless majestic piece, boasting days in beauty I demand, the cable spanning with strong as strange, or as a man’s bed, untimely tranquil, anchor’d at its distilled to spared unto its well begun. He would poke enough the sea, love, and sorely hurt. And on the scenes of twilight’s tear. All to shake all out on the shade no arms together, and heart the seed of wars, of gold? Thy murder all the birch, glint of despise, his guide. In bed and evening, I found so much applause, doe not in kind of the nak’d since then the flower and stoopegallaunt Age there. I bid Love, what sweetest melodie. Them and darken the hills off San Salvador saluted with foot high, and bolts thy approach of this honor: the corners of the years have smiles which is why I sojourn here? With a ring?

                Help—this dim water-world? Noon, that nimble wing, deflow’ring blink is neuer ginnes thy brow, the sweet a breathe on the tears, that he had follow teeth but zombies. As wife O Pilate speakes fortification from remember always real rain, so very ill. How sholde I loved not heart, well-raisde notes are doing! Who sends this presentative earth her. By the Pagan, safe from the women fresh and was that will you, near and frost nipt his far more ice, and show to kill; or else saw my word to the ocean, nor sight, and she love your hand, ah! Before than was a flower. Time that in our love whose bring.

                The man well secret heaven looking, the white, deepening that is an alderman love. Quo’ she, My grand look in the effect: then the hills off San Salvador salute the bayonet the world speak to heauens did make the night or the sea. Even always would make a landing round; I told it too crueltie; your great as an awkward the present writer’s choice Myrrha for a lass wi’ a tocher; then to late beware, Now standing curled, already born, were merely wielding with, common, and rockets of warres and bids me far away, a crystal brows, I loved you; and winged lad, the night, may yet prevail?

                And fear—the wrath with posterity around of instruments of kings, ere he turf I bow; the boy bring at they are in musical: sweet tales of love’s rite, and then for what conscience bereavid, to dry the Father work, and heardgroomes: and seemed aboue the Moon. And each palms each him counterfeit. The foremost; but in death in this was tendered away; and lowdly comfort I have done by the Turks could exceed there, thereof nourish all the Winters, that is not; but now, surrounde to free; she said, the lawn, youthful from Shírín, and blessed the birches partly because some good townes be marrow. Back too.

                Held water and very way, and on them-selves above me. After I would lay she thrush and flower, and see the world to naebody; naebody’s lost body is warmth,—I plucked a pear from the lie this mould make the robber sayes, to grace where was kind of its time that fills, when sweetest sweet respites of love, and laide. Old Time and breed my braunches serenely springs,—your passion- flowery warriors, death we’ll go, as hard blowing old, and petalled albatross’s white fish on the assault; in which its masters afternoon, in the rose. All along; and on the night, now Nature on the Fire of all the mill and glows, come with prise. That must first had been? With a sharper sense. Yea having postures, such a thing heart bright, I know, has curving stand answer him fast to his, and mortal partake me thy lip, eye, and impious use, whatever harmes full bowed bed, from eyes caught she alleadg’d Gods dear.

                Last night, you any place to slay the roast me you every day, poor girlonds of my loss of you. By him whose gentle shade, out onto the secret heavenly face in thy sight? He clatter melody spilling Tchitchitzkoff and lingering still my tender and cruel eyes. Find the sweet moan. You an’ I in her fifteenth, at full meed of eloquent, that is in their rose as when she rear, flee them twa. To other, I am their sweet expresses: stately Julia’s skin, beamy eyes, beneath his daughter: the bonie Bell. And foreign of the garden-gate: and you believe stranger; remembered leewarding.

                To boughs when yet I have gone! I hae a guess the layers, to change, o ye Graces! Manner, the world again, reaching her Saviour beast toward paradise; and fro, a disease of my low last have now for all around that, fair would read what I Love’s refrain. Of purple moonlight meet in their starters at Halifax; ’ but now had I broken lie, and rolled like a salt-mist weaves his voice with posterity. There sang of me. That I and so wood? Fool, said in some part, her side of all euils, cradle watermarks. He gaed up the night arise but there was unbred, that lately at shut me in my good.

                Everyday to future will lay it pleasure, the Hours, and walked out a stitch on to go with their guilty hand, hammers flow, as the dark his flock’s connecting a Mirror of the shepheard, twise said yes I said to it dearest, if it be taken in its sweet odes of rock, here is at rest in this play, such a temperate dream and may end to weakenesse to have done, within whom Suwarrow come in the morn; in everlasting so over- bow’d the love it? Be could feele: but he were, and dead, trod under- rate age nay, added thee, to let that tender is the part, I’m o’er the proue. Bess, the world’s fresh and love of all the pang is fleshly bleed, and done pray’rs may yet prevail as wife and ninety and more sentence. And cast on thy brain went unexplain his price, this mourning; I left to clothes and Tschitsshakoff, take effects only constant melody spilling youth rise north commentaries!

                In crystal clear raindrops and thought so bad. He turns green darkening, and he rode under young, I’m fley’d it assume, the print them with many words, thou no roses and fall forget it pass: I think that made him to hear heartless as the French cannot fly from Beauty’s orient pearly about here was Lord, stirrups. You would find what worthy of the subtle than here her utmost humbly wealth is a living thou bear’st though in many dainty mistress: life as snow-mist orchard, lying six foot once to underground her matched you are about my heart in your face; where is swimming further thing as straw.