#alas i am a full-time terror fiend

[libidomechanica]

Still pass oer whom

A ballad sequence

               I

And with ardour much in fashion.     Gum, pungent, clear brow and known, dead perfect ceremony     of flesh! Reward to make

all below, beat down, mouthing keeps     changed is here each look beyond most impulsively, most full     of faire appears: nor will;

for when the oldest maiden fair     Elysium to enrich the sun, seeking water a     hollow knock of some honour

be ascribed there prevail with     the show appears: nor will; for intellect, because in your     mistress, her works are Thames

shore? So lovely to-night, all thee     the best among the show appear but when he saw her breast     the alert, survey’d that

thou nondescript and every one     obeys, perhaps might have gone, leaving a shameless grand way:     being put to flight! Suppose

the air, the dews at even     know she leaneth on a velvet bed, full oft; and the blink     I have sought in autumn

mild; when I say Stella is not     slack at length of the grave, and yet was in her head, my heart,     you love procured the

flowery May, and blond meadows sits     eternal heaven, ’ as Cassio says, is above reflecting     the breeze: the world and

bore its foot more brave men who neither     miss’d, and growin’ yet. The smiled: the regions of her shade.     Walking in the fetish

boutique, those have seen such     opportunity, a mortgage on the all-cloudless clay and cram     him with divining eyelids.

Still pass o’er whom she favourite     frown, she knows so much it grieved at the sound of our house:     the blood and small! Had limed

ourself out to eat off your     pains may only friend and sweetly, on and those two poor girls,     like a fiend in all things,

far from her to love you and I     love still? But once on-a- time we should entail long praise the     sun sank or for the barley-

sheaves, and from the Maker is     dark, an Isis hid from the elms, and is, what I’d     In such disdainful eyes.

               II

The children—that men have a touch,     by scent, by sage, by preacher, and wound where they near or far,     to whom mad’st thou not there reigns, or infection of the cause     a lithe body being possessed of ages yet to be     accounted nice. For moe.

               III

And stiles, over the Castlereagh?     Scratchy pockets of life. My day of youth as indigestion     now had been men you need not be kind to each other     of my heart of those who held the people pass for with his     writer’s hand, that puzzled

more than hinder the compliment     deserved. Knight and so thy though enjoyed, like fire of me, that     creatures, children, would enjoy’d in your temple when some fresh     alarm, so that it is with his flight. Though little for his     tale was half-science and

virtue is it, if she would not     now and the two and twenty blackest moss the clinking,     chattering the willing main that, brauely masquerading Tartars.     Out of a young connection by tinkling souls—the poor     jackal cry. Beneath the

timbrel rings, or crooked dolphin     when homicide and warm, humid the assault, and teach the     least: even worlds have put it in my emotion and Bill     Thomson; all there below, by turns that done, the margents, while     their hearts, in hearts had opened,

each flower; do we move, my     friend! A witch, you Diuell alas you still returning to bed     I take one director? And this kissing hill, ’ so lofty     that terror of tears, and heard the nations counted nice. Yon     banks and am about

this powerful might with plumes let     fall, thinking it insults with love, my only friends, the desert,     I am no more your Psyche the long breeze enough,     while they reach one lives filed out in difference of the world shall     ever languish wrung then

without, roses on my lip. Watch     out for she herself secure; I sing thy amiss, excusing     them about? And half the ring—whose crowned—the Lady of     Shalott. The third, nor pale, and, bidden, entered; found to fold     when misers keep it; being

bold to this, her hand at others     of the high Midsummer shine with kisses, a mortgage     was. The bed along his love than deaf that drew the loneliness.     And kissed her how, ’ my fault! I thought he scars of heath, my     dear; and what carve the little

too ripe, too rare, too full, that     awful wail of lonely moated grange. For their backs, for often     strayed beyond all my wooing wind, flung off him off as     he spake, upon the Russian, until some huge Earth to rise     from holding, beside all

that viewed her how, ’ my faultless,     icily regular, splendours, better, as these delight to     play upon life’s headlong train;—the foot less foul as being     of a fancy. And steeps, and the camp rung with thee wit, better     than our offering parts,

can seal it you; take them there where     it like Solitude’s. Of merit, and all my soul between     us for the dregs of life? Than nursed at ease and     conquerors is a common lose them. Your client, poore my lonesome     years, like a mill; which

none divine Musæus sing of Hero     answered, Even they not believe in it and evermore     been ceaseless music entered thee I both drink of the     pleated shirt for a momentary, we continue. Her     gay-furred cats a painted

fan of curled plumes are reeking     refuge, slipped in brown length are unmating through faith may give     back again shall come and truly not less alone that never     take it thou art gone as well as Dutch, have sipped out nectar     bowls. And this theft, in

pride, spread o’er the orange above     the mouse behind whose Bounty left Hátim’s Churlish billows,     or something in thee lie! With joy; you would scarce a crimson     clad, then sinks with his father Jonson now had the which make     me give much; a gift prevailed,

as he replied, ourselves—o—     children die; and shepherds do, her on the yellow woods and     the blue regions far; and up we came the careful undressing     them both, and she reply, you are both defy, not won,     yet with her garden of

roses, roses that strongly stinging     women are! As at once, fire and threw on the show’d that     Ixion grindstone’s ceaseless, as thy face. Possessions     reign—back to the Muse tune it ye? Which will stay on your     In silence of the van.

               IV

Morn in flower-plots were thine eyes.     A monstrous hieroglyphic— that love hath she strooken, looked     out, and let the leafless bough and swore the kiss will but drink     of the night! In Honors

graine is dissembled. How I may     save mine eyes were to pine forest yet. Your heart, my own, but     spoke I to my stomach what silenced cities, merely served     to flatteries, crowned towering

its skirts of the foe. Still a     fortress, her to-day within the water, and to be mery     with his feasted. While you as me. Then do thy office,     Muse; I teach true life of

my speaking salamander to     some continued fusion of any form at all is settled     in her lukewarm placed upon two Ukraine hacks, till, in     appropriated each

others’ beds’ revenues of those     whom thy remote Shalott. Some hundred thousand years, I     recommended as metal waiting toward the shore, the death-cry     drowning in his head was

beloved of human creatures     law, rebellion then I do appeach thee overcast of     riper days from hurt you have offers up her head she believes     till death her the

telluric light. Like many tours of     some thither true-heroic— true-sublime? Where painfully     and applied unto Colchos borne in them, said—’Lady, I     beseech thee, divine, and

there is my fathers say thus     mutual appetence, and, whether fruit nor boughs and sea, from     the despatch, where they are, too base a vice. Wallowing dawn     of future. And he

together. Sicilian shepherd,     sitting art, they were all hold out the sort of men who groan,     more fear’d to die ere I promise you some patience! While you     and I became history

of divorces, which youth would at     length their flight. Soon will thee the words were a whole court loathed to     the woman at her words once more to add a story must     tell for lack of shame, there,

named from overworking the Tree!     Frank sat at their snowy hats and sweat, and b the lamps are     full: we cannot stop to alter words meaningless and shall     Stellaes face. Knead but little

wicked ways. Having sward of     the poor souls might be heard the stars above their dress is force     love and lighten into man. I could suit? Who was many     a soundless roses within

you wrought to keep his diadem,     with blot of Treason. Of a girl, she’s to me now! Her     breast, themselues abused when first stare, which your change, in sleep     might dread of thunder Nay!

               V

The Lady of Shalott. Peace, you     your converted back to the equivalence of matter     happier men. As if to love of any. Why should return     us two for only know. Long fields lived through this radiant     floor was Danae’s standing

on yellow sand, sends for something     I see, rich or poor although in its limbs in life’s fountains     mud; clouds among. As terribly terrible as this     Venus none. But I, the miles apart, robbing and sick     of thee, and duty duty,

clear of consequence in language     of Moldavia’s waste, wherewith beautiful old rhyme     to his immortal man, as put thy limbs whose tail’s a     diadem, than some pretty, is a thing through our sight; least, are     you great wanton thru the

flaxen lilies, betters but grows     false and men; but like this mann’d some consonants apiece; and     nothing saw the hallowed into fingers thou hast long the     Treasure such ladies whirl’d into the waves of me to claim     the crowd were like her, none.

Of blood as any of coming     swallows and piercing eyes, they will not come with his sin there     by provocation, and there’s mony a lass has a     small figure out how to blame, which seem’d resting on the signal-     elm, that hops about

the sultan of old, and he she     most adored was left within your hair. With my lays, as     Philomel becomes such set trash of phrases with pity to     be Cato, nor everything up their young hero is     comprehend, for with gore, and

the real daytimes a troop of Prince,     I prize it, compare. At a rehearsal a single mind     makes her head: I have suppose him in a sensitive nose,     from the unpermitted for abstract fame much more she fled     and, strange simile, that

he was she talk’d of as we do.     The Spanish, and iust excuse what now. Although the silent     love her till I died. Me most life, and rams up the town     surrounding graces o’er a sea of life is but the ringled     bit, and the private place

to stir within the room and thy     posies soon break, which make all below, making out and blythe     and hair. ’ And strange simile, that had got the while yet you     most resemble Venus demands. The world, my true that     enchanted loudly, chanted

Argus, spied her, was glad that sparkles     new begun. Floor of them in stating his passion, glowing     that the mavis sang, all nature had written me, the     lonely wild: but woman shoots me a flirting glass. Gain is     to spell, sweet-William with

the loneliness. With a song. In     every steep, where seeing grenadier. ’ Then murmur of that     golden Morpheus in silence of truest breaks the boats, and     whose balusters bright, all this cramped under head. Thou too, O     Thyrsis, still in Friendship’s

hands. And far descried in this that     poesy has wreaths for you are his anger ranged alone. Of     running of the poor Psyche was a Cloud that simple sentence     of the sun sank or for soul, the cock sung out thy repose     to work&weep. The moth

oozing a tower of blood flows     but never thrives: save wed a year ago, what far too high,     bob, And fall short, by merely quizzical, because of themselves     will go; I turned at me the counteth evil. And sudden     desire, a pleasant

voyage perhaps it is bruises     and determined to Cupid. Rather lover look’d a     sort of the world to offer for it. He kisses; which runs     nature’s crown’d me when our offering parts, can see what I can     explain enough for love,

for souls are little Lilia     pleasant capital of painted fantasy, her college     friend and still, save for Chastisement, pinching its haunted     many masters won’t examine, or state and to assay,     till all other, toes touch.

               VI

For a cure, the game as that campaign;     and stops for that—plot of Treason. Dreams; perhaps might harm     the women: I gave assent: yet how to blames which hides the     chain, and here is far too dangerous for that. Moon, and hurl,     my inside-out, or drown’d

bowls of brass, oft handled, bright, some     good survivor without a stone-cast from the blythe and her     in her nimbler much more she stayed, and once lost, vnkindnesse kils     delight—a feelings oriental taste, so was hid. Fields     where the suspected be.

               VII

And Catherine, thou gate of all     interjections than for gifts infused; since sorrow fraught is all     which will soon—though thy presence out of place? How heavy gold,     and growing, they do not

predicate, tis time to ease ourselves     more nobleness! Those little darling the winds, I have     soul, his sphere to dancing, to thee: or kiss it, often looking     back, his own heart, are

you go? As in old days—thyrsis     and turned, and cross into your fame? The two rings, thinking she     herself and this in my Muse, you, reconcil’d, shall violets     linger by thee: I lay

thy loof in mind, or vainly spent:     for as the word was feminine enough., His incarnate     skin, white and shorn of pride, and brain, O Lord, more than all things     won’t examine, or state

recouers. Thou too, and what was Ismail,     and every year, and all I know what were not. Those bodies     would farther gods nor men may pluck them from him oblivion’s     self turns in circled

Iris of a softer silks were     up and act, nor more in his ale-house bench has died entangled     in vain, and worth and young folks with such vngratefull, who     by no meaningless, thought

so bothers to break us with     pearl, which make my head nestled in their loss of his voice of     directions, and Tschitsshakoff, and Chokenoff, and orders,     and it would ever seemed

a hot bath. Division of     Dracula my favorite position crabbed and expropriate     simile, that chambers of my pity-wanting cheek, and     thro’ the level wastes where

ev’ry scene. There took his resty     race renewe, with mine arms serenely by the miles apart,     robbing and ben; Blythe by the throng to his, nor an altar     stood besides Platonical,

to shoot and her banished     and watching, and so dear, rose-cheeked Adonis kept a solemn     as unpleasant voyage perhaps he mixt with dust, stript     to his plac’d, as in old

days—thyrsis! But once, threaten; ah,     my sute granted her, well maist thou would rather dry. What was     this husband to hear it from night to what she smote me with     the time lie untouched upon

you. If only I could behold.     The door, above by bonnie Doon, how sweet! Marching Time     drew her cause by this may know its might steal for neither     Alexander now, which makes

me with thee? But this reverence     for the sweet springing it last? On this desk and saw and ivy     buds, thy cap, thy kiss whenas something is mortal chants     of the sick to springs.

Her won’t be here, the languid string,     exclaimed, peace, you are fair, and every that light occasionally     and wide, and shall disbursements in our prize, since we learnt     our meaning. Of the night

of strife, from which chokes and light. There     whipping something died, is no more soft and whatever proved     how vain a thing someone alone till night. New lighten them     harm. Shot my fawn, you are!

               VIII

Save forgotten what may be the bloom is gone, which     fell thy face. Weep, the Lady of Shalott. Where can we find the mesh, that loveth me. ’Adorn     it glistered from the bright sun-

bow that bears me compare thou art gone as will not     fight, till our low worlds miscarry, when the certain as before me numb,—yet less forth, and     its spoken, yet worse than sense—beside

remote and sun, and loved I view in the Rhine yield     such cunningly to yield ye, when you the question. Failing here turning jealousy has     decked the Dead; now I thought like Samuel

from the margents, which for each, find slaking, and     agony’s forgotten time; down each other, and how soon she shall find not owing to be     one, and the forest-ways, and that’s why

even as a bird trapped in brown paper. Accuse     me nothing; but tears listening whisper often looked so dolefully, as man’s abhorred     and as in furrowing striv’n in vain

discount. But what silence and sighed out as vain as     for my part strove to show how Peace engross below, if such skill you that he craved it. For     Day ne’er she moves overgrown and truth.

               IX

I dance and perhaps as false and favouritism.     Till all thy sweet i want no world for beauty on my lip. There, they know love grown to deem,     as a most beauteous roof to ruinate

which can love, I think it best to kill the spruce against     her majesty, who loved, as hens their own poor dreaming spirits: yet we know what all     you that hails premier or king! And, ah!

Even in evil tongue tripped by those two poor girls,     and sobs, and did detain. Then treasure lies. There her eye, and there, without transferred to gaze     on, soon with dimpled cheek toward me for

spouse and word by Charles very talent to a     criminal hates a shove, as at once a generals! Consonants apiece; and with dew, as     one than he could love, they do not stay,

the sun, that ye are driven: they should show it came     to her mind! Nor like all the loom she said; she saw me. Then the holy fire, where I say     it now an ague, then ask’d my Lucia

but a dreadful countenance behold the sky. And     mammoths, and no spurre can be anything upon earth more miserable rose, and thunder;     and up again, and lightheaded Bacchus

hung, and, which may be; there in green thing is done,     yet remain. To sound of human life a mere insanity, selfish in Comparison—     Water, water for thee, and oft

amazed stand, whereon Leander’s amorous play. Now     were ready to accomplish what haven for a calm and shall another’s train divinity     upon his piping to lead

there’s no way. If once beyond the nation’s wail,     and some such a beauty. Or widow, maid or mother. Would bless me wish to look the     serious succession: thus our weakness

something toward our skiff when the mouse behind it on     the Wound of our house: the bloom go I! Sights came out of my eyes and how our sameness     suddenly wonder to begin to jar.

Here. Now my sweet i want no world for beautiful,     so fleeting, to thee, as wild vines, about them, needs repeat both the silver bugle hung,     and me those who might reap the applause,

save you left the west, a land of peace; Gray halls alone,     who oft fore-see my after-hands may move towards you, although engaged with posterity     who does not in rank; and the sparrow

seas! She only dower his own heart compellants     go to—God knows I can, I will melt this may know love grown to deem, as a small amount     of me: the earth, or the fairy, the

Lady of Shalott. But certes matters after     her a letting quite forget this hapless love, all the water a hollow sky, and quite     well in Marinet’s affair—in fact,

that cheeks and out her skies—then howl your idle flight!     Which taught a fawn to hide her. Now an ague, then leave it out, we men are! The unpermitted     for madder music hath a far

most faith can seal it you; take the track by Child, gaue     him this great thick within their dishonor. And everybody thinks that awful plea commence:     such civil war is in my thought

I would animate gross, being possessive and     mildest, meekest of tuneful person, went on he rode between us where do you mean     by bringing clear, i fear no fate for

you alone. We had cause of you will soon—though it     be; tis a mistress Bride the river made; for I would more tried, more brain! To dream remember     where fanciful; she smiled and dirks,

and turtle’s blood, in view and the nation, for some     consonant chords the pomp of powerful gods. Where both far and stitched upon the flow’r in     May, that’s the only shouted, Allah!

               X

I list not abhor my state: if     thy unworthy. Old faces in subiect wert, borne in the     noblest kind-hearted maiden-

flower. Truth—to prove the breach     in his western bower. Gripped his friends the conscience, it should     needs a Tyran groweth.

               XI

Mortal Life betray them, but where.     He wrote, and hushed woods, and that sweets alang: in ev’ry thickest     dark dissolved in stating

his winter and overtake     the South, and Nature deep, or down the dish. Of foule abuse     such vngratefulnesse,

as well water’s gush divine Musaeus     sung, dwelt at Abydos; since Eve’s slip and Adam’s fall,     power’s base purveyors,

who, as these. I loathed to thee, Dear,     with hope was by it troubled. Needs must be converted in     your leg, an instant be.

Led the chief threw up the town’s open     quite, since our day put by the coronals of thing as     its master now. So much

it knows where frame and corrosive     care lady of Shalott. Self so self-love—which, lighten them     his slow brow and thirsting

after tragedy divine in     all that campaign; and her largely spreading strains I do vow     and poor, would she cometh

not, she said; she said, I have been     faithful as we are, for from her man nor would bar him off     as he rode between us,

over showers, who found again,     the Turks could burn or parch her fall: she fell with mine appear:     that asking look at

your favorite position, lingering     leaves, they write, and half-demon, and sugar first i’ the braes     o’ Ballochmyle. But

I am alone till night. With     Jove closed, and still he blew his side as a saint. Wandering;     hero, buffoon, half-demon,

and may appears, and again     vowed spotless fair, but, link by link, went Hero’s gentle love?     I shall sit contains, and,

whereon immediately most     sweet, sweet to live in vain. And sudden desire or admire,     if it be&,. With the

music of thy remote a Fountain:     how man fell I know no Grief but in thy voyce the actor’s     part, but I can explain

myself if that white as good,     or purple glens replying: blow, bugle; answers with a     melted base. For Time, there

was no place in the waggons, when     the morningless, that Ixion grindstone’s ceaseless, as     thy faire ladies’ wrinkles

in the silence sink no moment—     and all the loved? Why art thou art; I said thou wilt be my     lot, far-off from a village

cars will not find Liberty     a Troy: o, thou eternal youth will give you more we loved     to float, below the stream

bore her hand founded on sinful     loving: o, but with many a light for ever chanced,     the long look at the sky;

and every age and how our sameness     and dawdling, I come hither, come hither, come hither:     lest that poisonous flies.

               XII

Who names upon her leaving even     his Lips that of multitudes take on before her eyes     were dead! From a village churls, and ran into the Deep’s     untrample upon the sweet that you luld her and batterie is:     and I, betwixt the rose.

Some ask’d her maids are rare and it’s     you are wrong reason rotten. That biome. Clamping their antique     pen would they fell into the water doth not see within     you wrought about, that way, I protest and danced the trophies     of my lovers hate.

               XIII

He love in some great as any that you deserved.     Else men don’t mean time, till Gazing grew to Being blended, all the hasp of the portraits     in the space between his nod, as if

after leaving Love upon the bride to be noted     weed, that even death laughs and set himself is fonder of glory, and kiss a maid     taste her loved before the kitchen, coffee

in her song she was under worse then why not     of. While I do speak, and chopp’d with gratitude, and how a call celestial, or capable     of any one exterior

sense; but I must allow, good claret set before     to shoot and her majesty, she drew on, and maybe neither sun nor would go, piping     a ditty sad for love must be with

ourselves away. And swore he is rescued. Napoleon,     or abused it more: you have no excuse what now the Rust Belt mode—work hard a woman     fed by the waters took a trouble,

gave them equally; if our end were not changed,     and, seeming; I love whom she care of behaviour of liars believe me, Hero, then,—     let us pray! Venus, and fell into

the promoted couplet rather in the woman     could enjoy’d in your inbox I probably just reverted back to yourself have for     you, partly because it was a notch

in the heart beat, night-long with pearl, which now appeare;     for thy repose to the poet is what thou go? Let dainty cheer, complaint in vain was     Proteus carved, and many deathsong, and

there’ll be no bar to that could renovate, the     word, they know not, cannot go astray, and their tears must be to paste of almonds turn’d himself     indeed thousand that is constant,

independent of sea, the shadow lour’d lamps expire,     then places. And it’s you are a bird. Though the middle of the notions we now     entertain of their hinges creak’d; the little

din, for the pane; the monsters of the leagued     young, so gentle wildest dreams within, suspicion questing world your supposing not the     Cumner ground about the sick to me.

               XIV

The moth, this upland dim, these braue     gleames did silent isle is almost as much unblest he     knew it was nimbler much

mistaken, who with interest,     and inflamed. That where no sin unbolts the problems from its     long list. The sandy footprint,

heard the chamber for thy present—     these threaten’d sting turns life to terror the jasmine-muffled     lattices, and thus

you like the blood was talk of love,     and your gloomy path. You can tell me so; as testy sick     dreams within the sparrows

all the funeral direction,     no more be grieved at Widdin? And purple nights I dread that     sober hue deuise, in obiect

best is dreary, he will be     as spotless fancies dwell among the boils of job,—what words     new, spending arms he lo’ed

best; but that you, with someone free.     I have something in her cause of hate? Were thine imagined     more than spurring waves about

thee, Cynara! Was almost     delighted first he met her goe! Each in the lovest is     dreary, he cometh dumb;

the reflection by those bodies     from heavens; there is no doubt we see down-razed and ran before     toward his work, that seemed

in Stygian empery. How     false, however we do together fruit and every hair.     Europe from deafening sigh?

And only said thou shalt find     Liberty a Troy: o, thou eternal smile: perfected. The     tender purple was light

occasion. For me, in bridal     white, and then a fever, both the lilies’ shades and am     about? To Venus, and

time; with a steady stony names     of shadows herself to the waterway against her eye,     and that men desired,

and his Fingers Cupid raised up     their guns with me? By the common case. Carry me to the     land work hard and Master

of the liked to gaze upon. Only     can deny thousand death inwoven heroes—and such     wars women after all,

then a heau’nly graces o’er a     waste my sad and books and heard to remained, and found her smooth     to nothing, I said to

the eastern sky. No wonder threading—     ’t is no thorough Sestos from field is universe.     Happy you who cannot

speak—and take my lonesome years; their     image be white as I cannot be kind to each other,     who were the dream’d two human

haunt, and he who names are light!     Envelop all my fancy to understood at all you     everything else to do.

Not a cute card or play at all,     came love to his high sun flame, and wide, until a royal     smile a hard time slows down.

               XV

I taste for war cuts up not only like a gas     lamp, while pleasure; to me are not all, and I am no flatter’d world with the dewy     green. Are but mad Leander dares? She sees him quail, or a white; and heaven—such are broken     by thee: root pity in the lie to my heart revenged for ever think of the     golden brookside gleam primrose wan, and

her down at these words, at least he pays no remedy     this Leander, by my mother know that I were dead than such a Solitude’s.     Spurring way. My ownest own, farewell! After tragedy. As mine idle life hath half     the same, I am coming, I come herald knelt down to think of the head, and cunningly     he craved in such skill in my head.

               XVI

Sorrow’s rhymes, who thence comfort neer.     I might deeds for thou art so possess’d with the loved, but breath     is light, and looking well can’t move her till I die. The jasmine-     muffled lattices, and call life pleasure; to me that     be. And blythe and meet that

the tocher-gude I prize not, madam:     by young man, who were all those meek eyes fix’d on Camelot.     But they will excel all other, wine from her head: I     have tossed your huntsman here I could be call’d Jemmy, ’ after     all from them all, hard but

it didn’t fix into that the better!     An underground, my note of men contented: when they     should at last words will not love is strength of the dark. Doth     testify that set, a man, would die, than by single still advanced,     nor pale, nor plant I

it from side to be, my evermore     he gazed till with nought so specially when sweeter it was     a something through a garden- walks and all ears listening whisper’d,     and see love’s first in Glory’s glory your naive ties,     the fragrance and comment.

Underneath the Berkshire hounds to     my eyes are empty, after the immutable crickets     of these surrounding grace which makes that roll in yon rich sky,     over the midst a sin far worse then the birches partly     because of Greece was girt

to climb up; but since de Ligne, and     yet in vain! Love, in pity of palisades upright, so     place on my soul with me so weary … full of faithful to     the loved all that came to which in my mother, soon forgotten—     in folly and with

dew, as one poor word, they know love     grown to blind you are! A non-description on the timbrel     rings, all their antiquity, mine own love’s syrup, that just     once, they, sunlike, should teach thee and how soon she shall be cut     in marble above! Under

your Sabine farm is rather     make that nought to grow too metaphysical: the time do     I not glance, a patch of talents of the deserts drink to     a set sun which never came Cyril, and grief, of dog food.     Your bays may hide the woods

and walked two nights come out. As faultless,     will defend the shadow will we modern preacher had     a granite boulder quite herculean Is it not from     rose-or myrtle was he turned it or not to despair of     my cure, do you know how

first draught in this false and merry     was she rough weather. To Venus, and came, this little groves     sweet Lipp, you murdring their stead some branches sway, and yet regret,     from all earthly good, or a bell-wether form the flock’s     connections, tender light

like to be kind of foot, of lip,     of eye, of brow, I see doth change. And every warriors, unless     we call such Clytemnestra, though less thou lonely Hell.     Yon banks of Earn, and swear on the spray on copse and bear along     with the beds of Night;

or for the first was left undone     what now moves not come among the iron net which no eye     should never yet will one day be found mine there yet ’tis sweet,     what that’s keeping they live, perforce, with her garments were out     of mine own and garments

which can overcast of ripe grassy     harvest of the Rust Belt. Scream from the praises shalbe proued.     And to be a good, Christian woman. Underneath this cannot     stop to alter where for amorous rites are broken     gate and aim consummated,

is Love in heart was come riding     by have sucked on our knees. When Nature wept, I am     aweary, I would explain enough your Prince of the Rust     Belt mode—work hard, have guess’d that great and gory than the sweet     and carcasses that Ceres

hath begotten what have pleasure     took no part is when these are you go? Vain, and there, be     the four winged and which t is time hath she stayed his body?     Mere, with blackened about us, bats wheeled, but breaks the most     evident; for thy hair:

the thirteenth, at full gallop, drew     in short, and his guide. Say too, she would have been faithful to     your plan, and dank, which I could enjoy’d in your former world     have been hurl’d first open’d on Sicilian shepherds sang     to Proserpine! But these

present nor thought the proem, however     we brave it too might bear along with you the despair     print those high wood, to where I can’t repeat for possessed of     heavy cheere thou too, O Thyrsis, on like all things are stripling     main that, mermaid-like,

unto the aik, on Yarrow banks     of Earn, as light empties the sailor sings. And then had lyed;     I said to me ’twould be plac’d euer thy fairy colour it     had so sweet water fault, nor womanhood could pull him from     Fingers seek to have wrong

You are the best amongst them would     that stern she with thee? Bare on its last may get no almes,     but springs sit smiling with the care of behaviour of     liars believes till death dead strooken blind. Dost review the     love. New batteries were

out intermix’d? Fair Corinna     sits, and sighed to make fault cast her, and now good-morrow, or     it man. Dog won’t do it. How will we modern history, by     the bold waves he spray that I may avow; and laid it     barefaced at the main.

               XVII

Thrown away, and is, whatever     put eloquence in language, that deeds to human strife after     went Mercury. About his hat, and blind in all women     are! And such a notion, when the dark blue quilt and plants;     each letting grave for him

who thence, have known; ’ a pleasant now     than when they read her name and may she ran; after her aspect,     plainly of not turning flats. Possibly useless. Out     of thee—I am too qualified by saint, by sage, by     preachers say, women receives.

I shall with Hero, honour’d     Homer had held forth between her mouth with mortal wife. Is     a signal’s voice a whisper’d one of Truth, tops in like a     tiny rip of a face bare me in her naked young, and     then held the wind pent in

bridal white, shall slumber did thy     hopes I have nor health away she were as their poison and     tossing by, and how she is beautiful and pulled and     expropriate simile holds five knuckles and determined     to the spiritual splendours

that mercenary pack all.     See how to mount aloft and end with mine, then he sported     we in the battles, I will try gainst whole and yet renounce     there lies. And then her beauty fair with shame and sleep she sees     the ways that I am

not sure if this shall send him a     wandering after all from the presently be banished     and represents of several worth to victual; such is     there we’llpause. And ever, as he rode, Others I see what     others do fade and watched

his furrowy forks beyond all     kinds of you would shine forests, heave and he one Abydos     sooner blow, that are not tyranny could be ne’ertheless     they should ape those lively heat, like Titan from a flowers,     and this rare occurrence.

               XVIII

To kill the death-white curtain by, and with new stings.     Into the fickle Fair can give through all its range of duties of the flowers and the     board, and she spake this art made for more resorted mansion seat of Jove itself, is soft     like a precious strumpet, and can’t wash

in hot water I espy walking with tears like     a young man with the feebler heiress of gold from his slow brow and the rose. Monogamy     like being thus bespake him to me? Astonishment. Thousand dead, and walk your mouth     with the mysterious pass? Cold fire,

and the rest, that I’d let my gesture lifts the     praise, nor cover’d way was told the incessant water was there is my death an emerald     plane sits Diotima, teaching ground a hillock down the harsh russet of dried blood. I     have always makes you great thing is placed

as if by some instinct the wedding. And kick your     memorial still have seen these in me am chang’d, I am shamed that Midas’ brood     shall reign the heard your dispute: thus our weakness somehow shapes committeth. That leaped lively     heart’s heart was cold. And sorrow lend me

words as trees borne thy white line we had carefully     upon the fetish boutique, those curtain drawn; felt a horror, that hope of thee. White, why     this may Sacred priesthood makes it difficult to shined and the means would hear planet chiming     clear, that poisonous flies the shore,

and now, and I am nameless a slight kisses     are perform nor yet so we can gain advantage on the courtier’s kibes’ with charmed:     we are’ who might be undone what words the Turkish fire, and shape. I probably too has lately     the leaves scarcely move! In the land

it will brush themselues abused. By Swift, by     Machiavel, by Rochefoucault, by way of no part in our happy count it shall tire     of the low-tide rocks. When Venus’ nun, as faultless, will not with many poor Greece to haunt     of me: the birken shaw; but Anguish

wrung his bare arms some vast uplandish country yield     herself seems that dim lake. Then come, to chase fame: I now that watch’d each love as you may! And     ask me to claim this line some other like a light of a great pension;—o, ye great ocean,     than is the going to her tower

he got him to the applause, the past, your loves     to live, except for thy place to pleased away. To that though she has neither love is a     bird-understood just now is this, nor an altar build, which I escaped, ’ was the race. It     can open-hearted—ah, you Diuell alas

you still we modern Greece will not slack at last     he pays no more to say, and use you sick, ourselves will shock him even the hills. Family     history, the Seven Sleepers’ den? And hope, delight him as a Bow to Shooting statues     warm I fear, alas! All of the great

conquest, as if to have tied this young men at the     rivulet on he rode by one delight with you in a day or night and wounded! Lady     Mary Ann was a doubt how power could lend to think and your name and she’s in     ” About a stone-cast from kiss to kiss.

               XIX

Along his parentage, would wonder     the cock sung out of lonely for something with your conquest,     as if in doubt we

see hung in Years and upstaring     fauns would overtrail’d with roses see I in her Natures     law, rebell runaway,

to lord and put it in Diana’s     shrine. Mine own fingers show. It seems to have kissed her the harsh     russet of drifted off.

Thickens you had been, in lieu my     lips into the batteries were impious to despair.     The Lady of Shalott.

               XX

My day of your direction whispers,     Tis thee, all thee: now this, we don’t know of a boy to     men much less of my heart,

and wept saying, Let your favorite     scene began their scarlet ornaments and self was his own     will always had a long

light to be the bloomin’ and still     to hornet in trouble with pasted-on leaves the dough, and     Nature’s vernal smile at

last! His body borne away on     a flood, the Tory member’s elder son, and the throne where     painfully and Attic

bee, and round at a game that spot,     as will not going to learn it, were merely wielding eyes     she offers up herself

in every age and hat in heightening,     lovely fair was Hero, then, and done. To these: we climbed     the white lambs and each other

resorted many deaths who     fought she walks with his wings in a kind of baggage at the     best wife, unless than a

school except it’s hardly blazon     of sweet in the elm-tree brightness doth not grace affrighted,     Prithee why so pale corpse she

moves not now a sweetest subiects     wrong your bourds and wishing that chamber where we hid from thy     return. To rob her naked

man, arise less takes and still,     and the telling care, or state, and piercing eyelids closed at     sunset.—Blythe, blythe in

Glenturit glen. When misers keep it;     being loses in giving thro’ and the tale was done to     Wámik—Oh Thou victim

of that wilderness; and always     had at the race. No, nor to any, who for pickings prowl,     and in her purple

orchises, hath since I knew each lily     white with sparkles new begun. Makes us believe that     have found among the bonie

face is strength seem to decay; ruin     hath been said it was more believing him by the sultan?     In high desire

than to live in vain. Who held the     cause of killing men should bargain for a moment—and all     these surround—saying not

the world away, and with their own     self-love potatoes, you like interest, I may save mine     appear so when thought of

straw and ivy buds, thy cap, thy     kiss whenas some greenest laurels sprung from those dainties, shew     like morning peeps Alas!

Love, and do accept my madness     of habit’s power befalls me wandering me to claim     this weary travel, a

paleness, an hour; now share is     a letting eyes. That she should return us two for once     all-famous siege to rain.

               XXI

Most innocence of the go-cart.     And who could be dug up! Just now,—but by and by a fire     of touching groan—who blames which never price. My visits here!     Which now upon earth’s

diurnal course the last, if not I?     And hollow silence, doth you on the rose, her air like a     love for itself: the second place, with rapine, among us,     learnt a stomach on

the sound digestion is—that in     silence some instinct the wonder. I tried to belie his     soul in songs, their own protection; or as a fresh alarm,     so that the locked the realists:

and now that you will show em     herself in the water oft her hand; in touched, will this be     so—for such a Solitude, and glitter’d by her loathsome     canker eat him up to

death it makes those thing is scared but     copying is, whatever I’ve to do. But half this scene     is when the greetings and I make a small figure out how     to mount up to thee: who

make her; to many-tower’d     Camelot. All earthly things; but yet he suspected be. Him     did his high raigne on the lips of my speaking silence the     song is the Chess of power

to o’er-arch all with interchange     in cataract leaps in glory. By your conquerors     is a certainty is one who sits and guests dozed on, dribbling     itself: the sound is

force dost daily proue: no vertue merits     slight and true plain. The woman is in their cell, the sacking     in the dark. Threads of human haunt, and led by holy     Hymen to the song is

the gods decreed it or not to     hear, but spoke not, but her naked to gaze upon. Look was     like a huge moth, who in a machines. The two first did see,     which in glory! Is broke

and farewell! Are nothing do’t? You     served at Widdin? For cash and cold to eye those improving     the motions of that died of hemlock; our device; wrought. Madam,     you terribly

terrible tumble downward like this     very new creation has shown me thou leaves. Actually,     there th’ engraving thro’ the dough, and these sad highways     left its thorns and that I

shall if that delight were never     miss’d, and eat our power, for something good and meet the engines     laid which to that colour, without a step, moved by     Were cut out broad-shoulder.

               XXII

I gave assent: yet how to serve,     yet for her hand, as she were a life to say; but there was     not so fleeting, try my

she, instead of the dead. Caught the     awful wail of lonely heat, gallop amain from slope through     faith dost most faire, and is

extinguish’d sooner blown, in fragrant-     blossom’d trees, the empurpled cheek toward his western steep.     What thou that thou shalt be,

are but and breasts are afraid of     the windchime wasn’t making a wind among the matter     happier men—for the hay,

woods where—for no one eye or ear     of conscience give reward to make fire Sweet-swelling presently     be banishment thatch

upon the soil lies the Fates were     once, with such as had not but didn’t even drive a car bomb     … And in the dregs of neon.

And let us pray! Bringing     mermaid-like, unto their foreigners of the serious pass?     Was it like a mirrors.

               XXIII

Let them a’, my bonie boys beginning     saw that every difficulty being disappointed     on the place, and shape.—

A tendency to under-rate     and even as a brothers ever saw such with me for     one sole gleaning to quench’d

a moment of those base and duly     set rose over the greatest—and many seeing great     cause by right substratum.

Cheeks; and at other chastity,     but sleep, dear under worse than storax from the dark undercurrent     runs before wilt

thou about to hand and call life     pleasure to spurn in careless ill than is yon moon which, thoughts     made to gaze on, she answered

in a spacious light for ev’ry     glen the new Parnassus, where were a life to Love turn’d     round commixed they guessed

to root, their parts of shadow, but     she, whose crown off and yours, have gold-dusted snapdragon, sweet     thief which missing? Down to

Camelot: and how she know not     what I probably knew he was wedded to despair. Within     a cable’s length are brief,

and gallery, a pale, because     no feelings of those in office, Muse; I teach true life I     can’t live. He, being the

college yet, we’ll sew a green Shalott.     Such thing wind aloof the poplar shook thereon, and then     new East will wonders, wonder

where this enough to play hard     blows to inform the Princes in sweet from some fierce inscribe     truths, that unchaste? From dying

years as man tend fastner of     my love potatoes, you live single elm-tree breather and     bare! His broad leavest here

sole in the silver knell of twelve     consolation in fact they were apart; yet, day by day,     I feel her fingers good-

bye; and Waterloo has made three     parts which all who saw it following round at a game that     will went on he rode, my

heart Julia, if I strove to ravish     him. Attend the blazon’d baldric slung a mighty silver     feet her plagiarist;

I know the same degree, a fatigue.     There was broken by Maud, you murdring Tyran, you, your     temple when I’m with his

superior, in the drowsy     spell. And I don’t say, to begin to spell, sweet society     of men who groan, which,

howe’er the workmanship, tablet     and she heard them into capitulation; so that others’     beds’ revenues of

the vasty version has given     there, named from deafening sleep under your despatch, wherewith     her? How could not at first

no doubt few readers give a gilded     tomb, and the floor she to sport and put it is, whatever     proved how vain a thorn.

               XXIV

Where Fountain-tops where the drunk with posterity.     Or grief, and there with blacke beames such skill you are demagogues enough, and that him his     mace but, as if from thee: or kiss is most dead, flying sound; I grant his silver-green wounded.     But all is whirling in spirals, and takes care of war and fed with his flute his beauteous     maid, you seek the Indian mine:

give much; a gift prevail as wife and ben; Blythe by     the dance floor she took no part is when twas the spirit’s dressing rookery swerve from fame’s     black drop, ’ which old-recurring to wonder although it be; tis lost, my sight two horse     high talent and no assistance made up a song called her deity, through the first her     deity, through all their prey, turn’d for

sullen-seeming; I love you more than they read her     naked glory round and grief which sourly robs from his sphere, set in leaving Hindostan     a wild lake, with his sin there is not go astray. Till tyrants, and nighttimes with only     Fame for a cure, that strange and rough roads leaves alway. So lovely to-night, yet, I will not     such all women here? Which would you see

us. Me myself in his hearts, kill us with     care descending from Venus’ temple when she was undone. You here buried in this life     to terror of tears; and fly in the funeral expenses: george Washington had thanks     and how soon thy shoes, thy beds of roses, roses damask’d, red and butterflies—renounce     the aik, on Yarrow banks of Earn, and

blythe and had cost her maids, pitch our pavilion here     upon a mortals he is rescued. My day of you would know than thou, runnaway, to     lord and makes Love is too full oft; and all: the rustling tier, for so long as my hand? A     trifle more than that mercenary pack all, and use your example pilot, told here,     at any hour; now share in every

age and perfumed altar-flame; and Waterloo has     lately builded ship, well might be my ain. The Prince de Ligne have half this blessed night, yet, happy     valley nightingale. Or be she leaneth on a velvet bed, full royally     apparently was she but and brought to night I lay thy loof in mine arms the house alone,     of a thousand thou ask proof? I don’t

much sympathy for blood, survey’d the started up,     intending a Staircase ending army who still but use? The two are soonest speech; and     thus for with his fair banquet Hall like a tired child of thought they fell into the spikes     of purest light of the herd beneath. Of riper days I trust, kind readers give a gilded     tomb, and the kiss my mother’s shirt

you look like a wisp along throws here! Great joy was     here but and bony growth, which pye being them all one anatomic. The care of Lady     Ida’s shady brow, which heaven gate, where each stick your favorite pop song I probably     just reverted in our loves. Which th’ earth gone to the equivalence of hers your     pockets? Woods were in thy solitude

and yet, because in your froward me for that—catherine’s     pastime—who look’d on the hill, our Scholar haunts, outliving heady riots, incest,     rapes. You have obtain’d his eye in dew of kisses, the wedding her out of, and Roguenoff,     and thee; nor fear such sights as the blue fly sung in jest; and for everything upon     earth I cry for the sweet; but there no

sin, because they will end. There were he called him up     and, looking well continents, their grief of my low down, Sugar, my windswept and energy:     I’ll whispered the tree when I speak ill of the fortress of things—ocean and hinted     fantasy, her country’s cries! Are at first open’d on Sicilian shepherds and why     we came, this were in my mind, have left

to me: for decades she now, no force; she love     another veering slang, nor work advance in secretly have joys divine, and thy death will     come and transparent might blend itself alone, yet may live in a cold climate and the     door, he needs must rhyme with trust, and did detain. His coal-black curls as on the high the sound     them, too, were we not with theories,

and settled beyond most wonder whose tame leopards.     Or with foule rebellion then I would never shorn, had the bountiful service within     your heart. Death she wreath, and dive into wax to yield ye, when the hushed woods, and print my     poetry, at least in words name is but a trouble was not now and which lover’s fortune’     was in a stern they probably tried

to be content. Of feather and over my footprints,     I poke the soft Muses’ sons are only air was left undone the grave to mount a     ladder which was not dead; while every woman in pink but shortly he had the assault     and pure. As Philomel becomes such kind of love’s first i’ the brag o’ the rose a shout:     the gate, where with ourself, whence her station,

no doubt it was mere lust of power could lie;     yet could not know yours is past, your love is but a kiss, and curl’d, baked, fried, or burnt, turn’d his     eyes are brought to be praise, once crush’d, less plan that he whose pamphlets, volumes, newspaper praise.     ’ Such lovers gone, love turned, and wonder the tea-hours of some vile tongue, a heart its hungry     for still; then why do you know my wrist

is naked. Me where is abused. I am half     so faire appear? From thence, have gone, the less, had eyes thro’ the sun, as faultless, will have heard     to me ’twould be lovely to-night! I in a golden fleece. And through th’ horizon     as if upon a pillar! It blasted. Runs it not mine; yet there one stoops down her flow;     the broad leavest here sole in the spruce

again—again as loved all the works running Reed     his arrows at his glory still of sport, and made my heart to swallowed you trembling pad,     sometimes a cat, or a juggler hates a cat, or a crimson varlet but where? Among     her bloom, she saw thee, I did say: but with all the sunset flames object of thy darkness     for love must halt, for from ancient that

I were dead! Be she reply. Who am I kidding?     And reap, and fill it till itself to death, which so prevail as wife was not to loan,     in time is out one I know nor calm and she be fair, yet loving paused, and run against     a foe, or ran a sabre through optics black wires grow cold, dull nigh the sprout of this     oriental taste, because of a faith.

               XXV

And set in thy present. All day     likewise, and the boils of job,—what saist thou,—finding purple     seaweeds strowed to scorch

and glow as in a smile a hard-     set smile, like exiled air to insulate the plough or smooth-     faced, placid miscreant!

               XXVI

Glide, gentle question is decayed?     It can open-hearted maidens, empty air he flies. ’ Such     loveliest Hero ere

I do. And briers, over the world     to the town is gone. Lip, of eye, of brow, so soft, so calm,     yet eloquent, that win,

the bitter sent, which watchful     Hesperides; whose love and dull earthly turmoil grows, and tears;     and fly, ’ she cried, I likewise,

and hurl, my inside-out, or     drown’d, like Solitude’s. The fairest wights, the kissed again     and there my books be the

first they were made music hath a     sudden clinged herald Mercury who used she, and known,     given, for you, with both

heads do know, and made music hath     a faith. Underneath the centre of a boy tugs at his     ready quill employed, no

nearer viewed, his coal-black curls as     on a new museum? When they read her maiden fair I     chanc’d to serve to go with

the truce obtain. And, tumbling by     the Turks were Petersburgh; suppose that pleased away in the     city’s shaped like a mummy,

and groups understood just now     disjoin, what far too dangerous for that. Peace, and we shoulder.     And Catherine! ’ When the

Nighting shadows, ’ said and gained the     white curtains and tossing breasts all night to shun some few hours     as the Hall and up again,

and down to Camelot. The     white as I cannot choose. In love drinks all lips were dead! But     know much you that won you

that to the air, but scorne of beggar     needs no praise is short in his pipe began to arm, to     burn and brought, and prayed the

measured motion, the brother’s apron.     A man beneath his arms tore her other rage; when I     touch on our eyes are few!

I’ll bring in the party towards the     close, blowing down the fact’s about his Arrow hit; nay, and     uncrumpling fern, and tears

as pearl. And, bidden, entered; found     to forget to say truth needs no praises are tired of     it all the intellect,

because they did the thorns without,     roses without, roses on my door with your great prince to     thyself at least by his

and I; we still have made her face     no more than for sweetheart down. Bringing to you,     I am neither faith!

               XXVII

Our house: the blood only, who may with her the trophies     of the Earth to rise. Upon the root of this new shiver. The owner’s tongue tripped, for     light which jostle in that others, if

not in love a life that are ye who brought himself     in heaping laterally, so beautiful down every couraged, Sir; but half the     sky, she euen hell on me, the way by

now just from thoughts: Agreed to, this, I though her. But     only like a beam of Camelot. Upon the silvers o’er the waves about the     totality of succession, which from

those words can ever rust th’ enchanted moan     only then. Who smiles that reserves and kind, as for his monthly fix how he’d love reading     arms he locked the carven stern she

willingly recommended an ass each man make us     poor. Long-wish’d-for end, full royally; and swear; yet ever, and been breathe out thy pale,     pale corpse she took no part in our

chronicle as flourishing in ever-nearing circles     holding up a Harp, between the freezing way, left me far away. Unless t is     no great enough a thing was done is

smiling child! I ask’d how pearls hang; the zephyr wanton     thru the floor she turned it over and sea. Tis thus deluded, to venge them both, and     to the sale of new books be the fame

you envy and thirdly he whase arms serenely     by the foe. Undivided Being Hermes, have gone, let maps to flowers do adore     a sultan of old in a crowded

room, and truth, the grave, and maiden-cheek, the marge unhail’d     the shaping an ear-shaped cone to the Eyes of Older Men. For had held forth to-night,     till to horse high Roman fashion. And

thither treasure, thy honours skie: whose nun you are     his mother white, but no such quintessential laudanum or black doth make me give you     lent with words but Rousamouski,

scherematoff, Koklophti, koclobski, Kourakin,     and never lost. Window, and meet the west, a land of shepherd, sitting thought it near. May     make me give them his simple Hero,

learn who, save their thick the right a haloed ascetic     threading—’t is nothing more than a wound. So I, for question, went out the gable-     wall. With other for some from Generation

of love alone here we not well become     wolves on an ocean and to some brawl at Shushan underground, fair Nine, forsaking     Poetry! Yet could he, the taxing rocks.

               XXVIII

No, Time, thought him and dank, which joyful     Hero answered nothing fair the peroration, to     attack’d by wealth, and Nature

wept, thinking it over. That,     in my face enioyeth, but being a naked man, she said;     she saw the gusty shadow

of a dreadful words will be     bonie lass o’ Ballochmyle. Commander to shoot and her     side, unless the sparkle

in her e’e; let her tears running     of the wake of thee, hold on till the stern age countenance     is bleeding, forth plunged a

province he had hope to all earthly     turmoil grows, and she’s in love. Her back and unawakening     sigh? Men becomes

the day. I know not how, at being     much that Lovers, too, unto the end, a song. A steeple,     and light, poor souls are

kissing old words out of the town’s     submissive grounded swain, tho’ shelter’d in the baying of     wolves, will die. To grow old.

               XXIX

And much passioned in the highest in the wake     of the Impression do we know not how to bind the beautiful forever, and with     the other, an ye thinking to his

silvers o’er him like the herald, Jove-borne Mercury,     the chain it wears her ever chance upon my fashionable to absorb her tail,     refashionable. Kisses of a night

is a-cold; come hither, come help of shepherds and     tooken, so at her with our good poem,— for a time-torn man; even to death it makes     him err: nor woman close—they heard to

believing is of bliss yet the koi kiss his passion     all ioyes, dost reviewest those only said, I am very ill. The TV     flickering slave-maker, who is

my lot to hang: but those in office l’Eprouveuse,     ’ a term inexplicable to absorb her tail wags in that frown, he shrunk to a set     sun of paved heave in sight; least, I may

change. I am one she lo’ed her father, too     jealousy a human dust, this worthy of a Spartan, had the beavers abiding I     tossed your sister came before toward his

woe. And sweet love to any, who all the land work     hard, have it time I tied the rulers and Courage, Bat in hand, that sweet, what was long ago     was made her face; which way back to

the bonie was a bonier lass that they mean; lykanthrope?     Both to each other extras, which men image be white stocks rise and the blind my eyes     and in hand or save, i’m sure I meant.

               XXX

I trow, thought it oft, where thy love.     Beauty no pencil, beauty. Patience, ’ though I could not     imitate the pear to you.

               XXXI

Breathe o’er my dream; they make up dead.     Fair as thou hast been, shalt not be at peace with vagabonding     shadow lour’d on the world a year to ear it laughs at     all. And if I were constant leper. Any one exterior     sense, nor like that

loosely flew her zone in yonder     set, making a carcanet of maidens, higher by the     islands to ocean floods, the Vale, the word and so short, and     her man nor would vouchsafe so much dross, and man’s reach, on the     match was angry that lay

as this young, o’er the workmanship,     tablet and can scarce avail to pipe now ’gainst a foe, or     rather has grown brother I court, that you are dead! Frolic     virgins’ kisses; which one is lost, too warily kept. But     when you float all the hills,

and left branch the sacrifice, whose     tame leopards. Beautiful old rhyme to his brethren their wealthy     Sestos called. As it went, he calls murder, I will, they     did each lovely Fair, to hope may be found with insufficiency     my heart go wide.

Those pamphlets, voluminous, volumes     would carry it in your fists into your love, even     the students, all in a row, which is being near the waves     about their golden tree. Overlook a spacious roof to     ruinate which to lick—no

discernable wallowing round     the sky of a town which cruel men. His Soul rejoiced in Knowledge,     and silver-green with the Peacock—raced the Parrot—or     in Sport paraded with houses or with small bird stiffens     in a piteous plight,

continual haste. But by time or     industrie: of foule abuse such ladies’ wrinkled head     of men who for they are but is; and swore the kingdom and     this kind of baggage at their home and miss, meanwhile fauour fed     my heart i am never

in Londonderry drawling     again and are. To get at thy voice a whisper, and each     by other the hushed woods, dumb confess my debt in belts of     hop and brought for every age and even after chanting     organs to whom younger

that before man was.—But it keep     a temperate Lover- like that which thy fairy colour     fix’d; beauty. And she loathed the mystic office l’Eprouveuse,     ’ a term inexplicable beast three paces thro’ the first     house I beheld the plain.

The richest corn dies, who with justice     slain, with all he dare. Reads his Odysseys and her smiles,     yet with me, as harbinger of light shade of feelings ran     the memory—odours, better, as the summer solstice     down, Sugar, my windswept

and watching you vomit them any     good. Not make her; if of her cheeks, that in silence of     those two starres, thy breath! If it be names wanting rocks. Bid     Ireland’s plain as an alderman love, why they beheld; the     young spruce again, and heart’s

citadel to Fate. Rich in all-     resemblance just then; as the hireling tribe who make her;     if of hers your hands we wring, for she smiled at your vows and     lain in the watches couch’d in a smile a hard time slows     My words meaning her blood.

               XXXII

Will meet and kissed him, called her out.     Her face no more better hangs a mirror on a strain of     one another May new birds of roses, or at the right     as well as Dutch, a prop not fewer; growing, saying from     them and damning the best

of all but best is dreary, he     cometh not, she sat in front, and formal purity. Mine     own love’s seas more that near him; and, asleep, or grief, and the     singular tune of his Munificence, for rage now. Of     your lips, exceed Love, nor

pale, nor in hid wayes to guide     philosopher’s life was not Love’s prompt me I shall I say my     part strove she strips from its bonds, my days pass heavily the     king is done, and kick your famish’d country’s gore, and this kind     of baggage at the drugstore,

sipping grace to Jove’s holy     fire, and then to Pindars apes, flaunt the bright revel, plays,     masks, and all them in a sunny lane some one or others     children die; and strength; the new battering if the mouse behind     the sweetner of Musicke,

Wisedomes beauty still     more fun than gentle stream that she’llsay or do;—the oldest     mark of tears, and nimbly with his comprehend, for the grave     as her imperial peacock stalk abroad that royal     bird, whose throng, unmoor’d our

skiff when the grave as it is an     actual and of such wondrous beauteous boy, and here were and     the third floor the leaves and lecturing on her. I give you     away and you will defend me—you with the first stare, which     to lick—no discernable

wallowing or beasts must flow     the same radio comes a single life, but Pallas joys     in single beds. Who has not fright but a tree called Marriage     past, your love itself be doubting thus began as t were     affied. The new worldlings

orient into gold. To me     here in a piteous plight, and in his way: for nature’s crowning     in ischskin, ’ ouski: of whom were dead! Those prophets of     the pomp of power, it was nimble feet, and make the elm-     tree, be it underneath

the river the water doth not     see the fiat of the liked man as an East Indian     mine: give me to the first who bore its stainless glory which     said, The day before her other neighbor knows too, and saw     the hallowed long with yielding

eyes more grim and dance floor to     the first I it at mine idle life of care bid all that     made it open was smitten, juan much less they went, and sun,     as Natures law, rebell to education led doubtless     torments and gazes from

her maidens, high above the wonder.     As ocean-foam in torments which it contains, and, below,     making a carcanet of maidenhead? Life is dead,     but I can see but parts, now Momus; and every harp, unless     with his homely cottage-

smell, and stone bastions, most no     graver than you looked closely, you could my cheek and branches     held so debonair, as from before than all the arches     of that was worth, th’inheritrix of fame, this woman! To     these things they grew like fondness,

to the green malignant light     once on-a-time we should he, the miles apart, robbing     and you why. In thumb and for his tale, left of the thirty     bright daylight off with be appeare; for I was deep as ocean-     foam in torments were

Peters; but the state recouers, but     they added this new and old, so is my home. These quench’d in     phrases and me: for women, and the fairest Cupid raise     a kind of goldenrod glowing loue, though thou belied in     the very refuse of

the foe after both are brought your     spirit’s dressings of the golden close the doors open; I     fill with all kinds of shades and problemes old; or, Pindars     apes, flaunt the petty thought like the case, may show us what     ye are in my fashion

it to form legs. I am not     boast; things at a stand like a tree, of blood as any of     conscious woman and, you may be to-night! Stops blowing there     at point, a day like sweet that I shall the speeches full of     pleasures which so long all

he dare. Approaching, wear my pipe     too sopping to quench’d a spot to take effect. Science of     mass can honour be ascribed the fields, this untimely moan;     the Lady of Shalott. To lift the honey. Read—no     And again and depart.

               XXXIII

Glide, gentle ladies! Lusty god     embrace thee, Cynara! But still we modern battle     equally; if our entrance,—

well I maintain that for a frog.     She said, I am aweary, I would decree more evil     in an overbear

reluctance for only the longed     to followed Cupid’s myrtle wreaths at everything’s negotiable     and that he dare.

And London had me beguil’d, this     truth: for me, I deem an absolute autocrat not a     barbarous Thracian soldiers

stared, the dead, but I look on     the love. Beholding scratchy pockets? And most wonder whose     parts which keeps the words would

not yielded! But when touching. The     hand of successors. To Friendship, at least little darling     car from singing it she

the house that never utter; would     that never feel thee the best may be christen’d love reading     vnto me this little darlings,

it scares itself confound     naturally the less—so lovely was the moon in pieces without     remorse, and see just

cause of thine eye and my only     may now share that were apart; yet, day by day, till continued     not. May still to keep

his dialogue; for such Cries of     my mask to linger is something that strange: unlifted was     taken by the innocent!

Had she brought each place, stella,     I say my Stella I do meane the other, as the heed     it is we human fears:

she seem’d far better leaving even     his nod, as bold and majesty, she euen hell on me,     there reigning anger, strove.

               XXXIV

I grew discourse begin for to     hurt her. Behold the Fates were closed her man obtain, was left     upon his arte. You need

not thine imagination; but     would have been dealt in another Phaeton had met a party     towards the cloud’s uncertain

as lovers, downward went, with     someone might have seemed the throng to go with the tide the fatal     knife that sounded these

women through the voice, his God-knows-     what: for after both at least, are you soar too high, for I     wish to know you have one,

and hat in the love of men holding     all life’s dry land! And stocks incurl’d much as had collapse,     a small sword, but breath. The

course to haunt the horns once a     gentleman. And bowed as if from a cushion a preacher, and     every hair. And Tschitsshakoff,

and Strokonoff, meknop, Serge     Lwow, Arsniew of moderns equal—when we don’t pin men’s hearts,     which Inde or Affrick hold.

               XXXV

Love, there but is; and lilies out     of the deed, the ocean Alas! These he regardless; and     ev’ry tree a wealthy issue bears of rivalship rose     in office, Muse; I teach me many a holy idiot     doth sing and therefore

with human heart, who am I     kidding? Though never think that one world is wide. Their Delhis     manner thus beseech you terrible tumble duty bound,     the Lady of Shalott. And there, and ran before your better!     Near the bud will not

more near. Rose-cheeked Adonis kept     a solemn for this kind of mortal hill. There might have made     no answered she and I had a current runs before, in     sooth, not used, are heaped for a time-torn man; even thoughts to     break and quite as good, not

leaving mine, mine, lass, in mine, lass;     and ask me to stick your mistresses. The Lady of Shalott.     But heavens; there we not marvellously modest, on     his last attack; or like a flow’r in May, that’s half so fair     a church as thick and

underneath the Night came, that he had     cause the Russian, Tartars. And I will be to the ivory     wrist is just as Sol’s heathy hills and set it free or sang     Sir Lancelot. Then say my Stella handled, bright, thou wert     most faire, and other bed.

               XXXVI

And such a framework scarcely move!     Give a notion of thine, that bad his plain! And naturally—     imposed upon the

melodious winds were deem’d Cossacques     and still would do a steeple. Tiny swell of our body     to it, give you, my

love likewise grew, for the taxing,—     how, I say, will they will bet you can’st see by glim’ring of     this blessed to the tailor—

that Spring against the sort of     cares to compass our dear sister’s old abbey. Beaumont and     gone. There is sunlight of

eye, of brow, and wan fond love will     not force to chaos, the shimmering as she spake with kisses,     there while over tower

he got him to the Abbey,     and vagrant lawns, goat footprint harden into man. To laugh     the grave as he rode down

every garish toy, and grow a     home for outward, flesh extended an ass each man may     attaining to thee: or kiss

it that I were you for the drift     of the living thy amends for issue, yet regret, there’s     no way. After went

revolves anew its axis you     I think back to the eyes should be seen faultily faultless,     will they went, and done. Struck

Fire; or lifting back against the     sacrifice to slake his face, beat with dust, that Spring so     lately wrought. And sweet from

the mahogany that high     official duties to sing’ this old songs and flush the night her     painted for much more joys

than love, yet, love, I come, and make     out silver tincture of human face a furnace sealed, they     write whatever proved how

vain a thousand knowing, the time     lie untouched, I’d grow old? And nothing as still, and the     primrose wan, and spher e

d course begin we wish you’d changed     my face tempts my soule, so fraught in front of the Night for Day     ne’er renew it; but Thyrsis

and thus began, through their home     and you here be whose joys did entreat that in aspect, plainly     of not turning wine,

but which unanimity, that     loved. Break, soon without that Learning still panters for newspapers,     illumine; and still

may live i’ the sudden desire     shall disbursements did important things are steadfast? Light!     There Hero, hate me nothing

and stiles, over the course begin     we wish to set things, it is time, till the marriage, thin,     sticky, fluttering slang,

nor work more grand desideratum!     Blythe by this microcosm, dabbling at     But now this festival.

               XXXVII

So handsome, what silence and pure.     —Worlds miscarry, when already to slander about at     your victories! On the sound

allured thus, nor stain that Yermoloff,     or any other of the dark blue quilt and been beguil’d,     this were lost that where

thick-leaved platans of the world     a spot to take the South, and in its mouths calling men should     tease her wont from some such

visions for the sweet; but worth as     kisses of a single still her cheeks, with grapes, welcome he     shall I shriek like a plane

of movements, those rich Ocean for     the volleying rain and gallery, a pale, lost forever.     My chanced, nor ruled, nor

coin my thought, the edge of pine, to     the one POU STO whence words, at least, have we not wish undone,     because it knows so much

more true. Most things one says in bed     that never hears no less thee, Cynara! Fed by the     memory; as one to Chide!

In the fetish boutique, those curtain     by, and with grapes, welcome, farewell; it is best, of hands;     true love or hate, for frowning

in despite my soule, so frail,     so fleet ’twas on the fount, and b the lady in the soil     of the heart now she will

laugh to see us passion in     a traveller on deep persuaded a Russians did hush     the night her paine. Answer

was and is place where this very     true that stern repose, and tumble, Vulcan and yet, I’ll enlist     on neither side. Brilliant

breeches, bright they went, and raw,     long dallying with pity, break and sweetly quickens when     No more your excellent.

               XXXVIII

The Nikolaiew regiment’s allow’d, wrong or right.     And set it free or moves not of my sorrow hath she tore the Turks were cold, the Lady     of Shalott. Or, if it be granted

is, I feel her slowly chilling breast; and all price.     As wife and forth the boulder even thou would condescension, and began to sound of     Absence; but Lady came these mimic

scenes, by special provident. And cunningly he     craved, and where; the Lawlands I hae lo’ed her tower and the cause of war to come to make     a stoic, or like a better

hemispheres, with thee we combat with green corners     of my low down, absál and heartless daughter: the thin underground, and gallery, a     pale, lost forever. Enjoy the longings

Prithee why so pale cheeks; and when the breach in this     little Child for Chastisement, pinching its account to the water oft her hand, lass,     and that’s best of the vale. Part her like

this reverie, perchance of traveller on deep     ways is. That puzzled more fun than going home to me now. They still death laughs—Go pondering     wind among the left, and lover?

               XXXIX

Through the hill.—Blythe, blythe in Glenturit     glen. Last, yours has lately wove, there rose that the drunk with     great name flow on and wat’ry

star when yawning drawn uncurdled     as new and opposite two crystal tears, my skirtful of     the wine; and there was as

strongest, or presented by that     I meant. We lay halfway up an ugly hill and if ye     will let the two rings, thinking

to the night proclaim the bonie     lass, and blind old man, arise like men! For his love; and all     confound natural agonies,

with a melted base. He ought:     of all but us three I am undecided which     guided were like those girls

do, any mortal man, as purple     glens replying: blow, bugle, blow, set thy love. Tongue: to     prove, and ever be

persuading on the rivers rage and     every age and round a pearl the corporal—some Cossacque who     were and were lost their

examples of the Nations’ ambassadors     began, through all their Evadne; and as traitors     are sweet perfume descending

at her preference between no     placed as they beheld the people, just as Sol’s heat is quench’d     in pity of palisades

upright, so place. And all the     arches of that is your heart of Ida: they did proceed     with what a pretty her

blush our lightning of which lead to-     morrow, or it may be to-night! The oldest this, authorizing     thy sins are; the

world with thee nothing known shame, and     groups they were green, and Mouskin Pouskin, all probably it perch’d     upon their frenzies; thou

swell in pride, nor in hid wayes to     wash Ambition’s thirst—so Arab desert wondering: it     is so; and whatever

I’ve to do. As she, nor thou in     beauty, like to a set sun It is a narrow spear’d but     will come again—again

as loved each others do adorn;     neither nightie and her down. But spoke few words, all pleasure to     spurn in Olympus dwell

among the wide whisper evermore     dear than even pedestal with thee another will.     The reapers! White, had you

remain with; the next shall offend     all the portraits in the toilet and flam’d upon its station,     no doubting things: yet

my mother like nature list’ning     seem’d taking these nations meet, who plead for anger if he     hath more was a drink and

day; lorn autumns and of such thee     see, my heart can ne’er decide, I should make John has lately     lost the inherent glow.

               XL

On sea-wave as it grew, Alas!     Are the skirts, its webs. And hold the came, as if born for the     lament—for I am

one that odd strings all women after     both attend. To the spruce, new seaweed on the same: there     we to give, they say thus

mutual appetence, alcides     like effects procure. That Jove, usurper of his     And true, and starting tears.

               XLI

And all parties: never tires?     I’m weary minstrel, abbot, squire, and die. You did tomorrow     to our dear delight

to haunt beloved of th’     Hesperus no sooner heart i carry it in my head.     Miss, meanwhile fauour fed my

hopes I have tied this knot in my     hearts. On handsome hearts, in heart beat, night-long with this, thought buried     these dreadful fight, and

time be mute: the wild echoes roll     from those in office l’Eprouveuse, ’ a term inexplicable     to absorb her tail

wags in this with modern Greece was     beloved. Till he see sang Sir Laureate, tis so: for     war cuts up not only

bedded with ardour much increases,     till thee: then what I probably should’ve said what the birthright     in front of the lass o’

Ballochmyle.—That might, below     the needs a crutch, and stile and Instrument; and all this great     men o’er like a young spruce,

new seaweed on these were for more     sentiment; and he who sleeps best right to sway? Knocks hard upon     the World call’d Thomson

and wore me like hawks round a pear,     or is it that chambers of thousand daily helpe I craue,     may get no almes, but

some marvel of the Bier; his     Penmanship, tablet and fear: why faint and Fletcher, swans and others     though she ware a myrtle

wreathed o’er the dust of power     hast too grossly dyed. She only bedded-down knot. Some     patience of that forms that

dim lake. The wild winds and promised     good fame may suffer painted scrape. And neither faith! In order     from thee: the Spanish

fly and applied unto all     confounded a portionate in the spikes of purest light foot     shone the pig who sees the

flow’r in May, that the air of the     flowers well as trumpet, it seem’d her maids are not all, and     silver chanting rocked, the

other white, what we hae seen, the     sinner? Among six boys, head underneath the night, betwixt     the river sloped to

plungeth and damning thro’ the midst     a silver altar build, which men will things; but as it roll’d;     and quite, but deems himself

indeed, we had been assault; in     which he was enthusiasm and much crisper smiled at     me. Dry down scatter’d free,

like our own words would kiss those helpless     eyes and stol’n from the tocher-gude I prize, there to show     how Peace engross below,

beat with, common prank: it stands and     women, yet won she goes to inscriptions of our pot of     honest simple as that.

               XLII

’Twas so; but that thou not haply     say truth needs divine Musæus sing of credulous head as     he his worthy of a Spartan, had never a moon has     shown me thou look like a well-conducted person deign’d to     drill the indent of three

years. She said, I have not me, and     now, and I don’t say, to begin with that he gave no place     Leander cried, th’ enamel of the Partridge—or     fell a-talking, riding time. Kingdom-troubling Triton sound     of human thousand slain.

               XLIII

Two lines of wheat; the one chance. And     these things below, the human deeds we do. And all creations     it is but a young Leander strived the more delight     was she wept, thinking on her, if only I could fall     forlorn, and everybody

thinks he see sang Sir Lancelot.     Who, after both at least by his own bride into a     criminal hates the flitted to a fool of the pleated     shirt for a magnet-heat rounds pole within, the woman in     pieces with a boy tugs

at his resumed amusement was.     And we loved, and rocks ye rove, the wealth of Indies which so     prevail’d, and now I have not marvelous experience     which when done, now I though the World dirhems for Drops; the     Babylonian harlotry

made great long seclusion this     Canto, ere my boots like effect but little stores and a     good wife. Her sweeter music and books and he should show it     gave offence, we know nor care, or softly light; but Thyrsis     and I; we still behest

disarm’d his bosom take. With lights     with rigour to exact of lonely moan; First my unhappy     stars, timing with men of weapons, as e’er was long as     my hands in this of men, thought;—and of sheep-bells is my father     Jonson now is much

in fashion’d vest lurk’d a man could     have thine or they appropriate simile, thoughts, remorseless     music on the other ties add what we might doth she     scorne Astrologie, and I should Love, like a naked neck his     back, his own shame, and gained.

               XLIV

Shepherd lad, or long-lost child, I     met, I love were dead! You shall ever be clean, i’m a man     beneath his flute would have locked the gate shall he prefiguring;     and, wanting no excuses did disguise, for my bonie     laddie frae her and aided

our tale, of which Inde or Affrick     hold. And determined to the one toil for bread—that rage out     thee how to make so many a wandering made cry, and     knocked and rough weather for itself with the camp! Nor these rules     did for that beauty’s truth

and walk your fame? ’ Of all inertial     systems, which in glory, show’d them till things rosy, ripe,     too rare, too, they seeing the shadow of a name that such     euill of me. That heart, which, being her devoutly prayed. And     holding of gods and think

the quiet sounded inward grace     is still my mother drawn by those years; this blessed hour atones     for Cassandra’s bliss. And damning throne the ground veins. Is     when they raised a tent of books, but they should she cometh dumb;     the reaper weary listen,

while her maidenhead. Would we     work out, and rams up the blooms in May, that the lovest is     before it Adam. My heart, and Jealous lest his long look?     Of shales and infant ripe for my bones to and built, in the     boy’s palms were in a sphere

to dance and then tributaries;     I know nor care, as on a new flame; a thoughts: is flashing     room in thee, Cynara! Had left the high Midsummer is     less practised in the pleaded, but I. Under its Trees     in one to the leaves, allies,

kings, a long praise, that assault     and play hard or a kiss, life of cares to cry and crave that     rose and, drunk as a wall, or the flower amang the snow-     limb’d at dawn and true heart of thy faire forehead; the little     to the richest corn dies,

if parchment of hay new-mown. And     keeps learning the camera chases two women with as on     thorns and beauty still was busy, and vain the Oriental     taste, because she baldness of your foot of the seal.     Personal act or speech did

a famous oath is to the     solitary brother, and books and he felt himself in heaping     late and icy clime. Our veins, when looking well can’t raise     Ceres hath been breath! Scratchy pockets only not that is     to give it time enough.

               XLV

So, some of the cot we shall find     enchanter, and after his bosom is endear; and strange     she earth, which is his dying

sward of thunder. Who art dearer,     better leaving the breeze: the Prize, and looking ill prevail’d,     as e’er would have tied

this sinewy bow he bent, and     pleased us not too hard to be flung in Years and upstaring     fauns would the Lord of

Heaven’s King keeps register of     Earn, as light concealed leander’s eyes dry, season gay, like worth.     He, being dispell’d, as

also her tongue the high wood, and     even after the immutable crickets of living     follow’d? Now good-morrow,

or it may be christen’d love reading—     ’t is nothing but you, dear domestic stream that flows     like a mummy, and gracious.

An uniform,—a scarlet,     are the mind, or vainly spent like Mars and there; they are, such     wondrous family history.

               XLVI

Your bays may hide the field-flowers,     thrown away, in the question is—that in aspiring are,     shall see; see him by the

vent’rous youth, full of depart. Thus     replied, her duty was as fine wit. Blythe by the island     in his love; and should still

he stood among the floor she heart     compell’d to rootes, my hart becommeth lead: no witchcraft     is so ground he laid and,

tumbling knees that with milk-white paths,     wherefore fly; but her eyes in sweeter than a common     sempstress. By thy comfort

in your tomb in Westminster’s bed,     to dally with thee overcast of riper days from inns     of molten blue. Your love,

and sparrows all the last line of     their own poor dreams. But still she railed again would have embraced     her but from his voice forms

a two-part can make him: Gentle     friend, the noblest kind-hearted many a gem, like an old     one to Wámik—Oh Thou

victim of thy rustic love, the     works; at which it contains, and think my love whom these rules break     us with tempests play.

               XLVII

Shame, and Chrematoff, Koklophti, koclobski,     Kourakin, and lightheaded Bacchus hung, and hollow pearls hang; the zephyr wanton fields, and     threw him gaudy day denies. Put out

broad stream that flows away; and beast three paces thro’     the fireweed flowers. To give it time espy, thy late rhymed to be most instant louers;     see now that a little—odd—old man,

arise like Pyrrho, on a shutter, like our will;     she would teach or bribe me to make me lovers lately wed; I am happy, country,     or of mine own love’s blood, in view; the

blossoms on the Danube’s left branched with the     Nikolaiew: the praise is short a time enough to play upon life’s headlong train;—the foot less     just to see his triple mace, which alone,

now he served to float, like lemonade. I don’t     pin men’s hearts. Her bonie laddie’s young, and station. And he she moves the circles holding all     hither: lest than senseless music of

thy return’d to rear, who, after many weary     minstrel, abbot, squire, and which is worth to hear two women; there was not to be seen     faultily fault’ she wears her error like

a wiser epicurean, and ben; Blythe by     the inhabitants of the night he scars of herself, for long-lost children—that mercenary     pack all, lady of Shalott.

               XLVIII

Thy pity at all, just now the     new batteries were invade the charm is broke them both, and     set himself is mild, and

I know the standers by. All deep     enraged, Sir; but the glory round he laid on these alone,     our reverence of flower

their golden Galaxy. When     they raised of all the love of their own land batteries on     an isle near each other

of my love, they went, and survey’d     that passion, whose workman and are. So puddled as if I’ve     been lilies without.

Especially anymore believing     him by their surprised and a cursed sort the bright? And know     those words, too, fitted for

thee. Which like sweet love, and once lost,     my sight of hurt or fear our souls than lost, the brink. Cause who     might concealed betray: the

Dead; now made of jasper that makes     a verse this rude Cumner ground a hillock down the chronicle     as flourishing to

be vengeance, for aught was its make,     the brother, and see, back’d by wealth; when all the raven hair     there we squat outside the

back a little charge! There the meads;     where I sit upon the golden reign. Plough or smooth-faced, placid     miscreant! And you

when you float all you the unity     of Cossacque, o’ercharged. Began to arm, to burn such     disdainful eyes. He cometh

not, she sat, she floated wide     at everything has gone forth, and aided by an unseen     hand at a great town’s harsh,

heart-wearying rhyme, but with a     look; with it the Lady of Shalott. Last nigh it, like the     hot cornfield or river:

lest that fever which said, I have     heard and nothing and true hearts, you are a fool; and succulent,     with the best wits thinke

those prophecies of that glow, but     tell me there. Fair Corinna sits, and by a fire of the     proudest most oppressed in

size, from a flower blushing coral     grove, where thou sea of slaying Priam’s son, think water nymphs     humbly made for a blush?

               XLIX

Marriage feast day, O cursed taste a     word of truth; and that blown about to thee did give; that blown     shoreward; so to Camelot. And thus, she fled and, strange tulips     but only love still

as trumpet, it seem’d thee! Let sea-     discovers, his sheep, his happy, that’s happen to you it     was my love to some continued fusion from shore and not     mean enough you had been

the Danube could ever be     persuading on the sand. The fact that I might be saved, and gold,     with dim and his Cyclops set; love smitten, carriage vow, which     the colour, without me,

that footprint, heard them push on to     see the same thousand showers be still advanced, nor ruled, nor     often look the breathing them over, if only I could     have voice, but, like Titan

from her Face the board, with accents     high against the incantation yet, the place of flower     that used to rootes, my hart becommeth lead: no witch-on-     girl violet thus mutual

appetence, and founded an     ass each simple rustic flute kept not from her bosom take.     Sea-born goddess, for my bonie lass, and nineteen who groan, which     can overcame my soule,

so frail, so faire foreign places.     With other for some corners of the foremost; but hark, O     hear! Light, so low in the hope for his burning from the history     rip itself before

if to veil a noble than the     elms, and favour and twenty- five years, the morning-sun so     bright, no enemy but with blackest most high: see what I     am a man form a

fiery gulf as talk of     escalade, bombs, drums, guns, bastions, it was to speech planned, you might     be perhaps you may! I trow, thought to the rising quietly,     disrobed the came.

               L

Like an unconscious theatre.     Others I see the same sunlight and Day? And then begin     we wish theeues steal in

dubious which now upon my radiant     fire, with smooth or rough. Have patience! But so it seem’d her     man obtain from singing

it back to the world of forest     yet. For love unless the night-fowl crow: the consecration     of our boat passing without

breath, and flam’d upon thee, I     did not have increased, upon a pillar! Woman tis night     in vain discourse and would

honest spied.—Blythe, blythe and her bower-     eaves, the smiled: the realists: and I, betwixt her likes you     feel dirty. Where thou art!

               LI

I would know great recompense more     like a schooner, or—but it keep the world away, with blot     of Treason was quite

flattering if the world with gnarled bark:     for leagued young, o’er the world except I think one Shakspeare’s,     and the first house that

do still was bustle in having     spires, she knew, although Hero was his new shiver’d in phrase     well-pleased us not too

hard but the toes, it will—the rest;     which my lost Lady came in her station well night to grow.     That every graces o’er

like an old passion; but I’ll devise,     among their wealth, and think of the Bier; his Penmanship     both make a Patagonian

jealous, often thro’ the     rocks of a dulled and tooken, so that colour fix’d; beauty.     Hardly high sun flame, and

once a gentle parley did proceed     from her slowly twins emerge in the shudder but to     hang: but the best: for Cupid’s

myrtle wreaths against the sea     wand’ring in the bosom strain of the rider as carefully     upon life’s dry land!

               LII

We will fall. A maddening spring     against reason. Of other than you’d changes like a tree,     are diuels in the blue fly

sung in jest; and found a pearl in     rubies set, for there you will, they left no echo of the     freckles, ripe pout of sight.

               LIII

Tears; and fly, ’ she crawled through skin: little     Child for Charlotte such as you may pick out some queer no     means to whom young hero

is compeld my mouth and of     pinewood cross into yon farther furlough: ’ and her maids are     men will we say for her

eyes were deem’d Cossacques, hovering     leaves and gallery, a pale, lost forever like a bell-     wether former sight they

pup, and when he spoke, and how odd     is to free his tyrannie? Above the love itself, is soft     like Solitude and set

it free or wilt thou dost seek to     know who most content male wind—shaking have seemed to stir with     thee nothing knives in a

beauty. Far-shadowing to you,     Cynara! With that ever when thou wilt, thought to understander     better days from

his blinded eyes; we rode between     classes. Than for ever her fast and thro’ the foe: the     sentiment; and as the window,

and fly, ’ she said; she wept, I     am aweary I would be call’d Saviour of the world     in mounds of grass, long-stemmed

plant, and small! Love in a sensitive     nose, from the unpermitted from me, white stocks in fragrant     from his comprehend,

for this first, but her neck, like Mars     and light, and he doth, I fain must dream him went, frighted, Hero     shined and ran into

my eyelids close, or play’d the Rust     Belt. You gentle queenly flowing eulogy much more     expressionists do that be.

               LIV

His answer’d knew to whom all ears!     That none as I. That he had nothing like a youth almost     a prison-house bench has

as meek as ony lamb upon     a pastoral slope to slavery’s jackal cry. Ourselves     have made of jasper stone

where painfully and more waking     south but small: little, and her, being here. What would be lovely     Polly Stewart, o

charming Polly Stewart, there is     dide. For still he blew his silver-green with the morning and     she herself lament the

heap of such their haste, or waste, the     blank end. The evening died but Mercy change my mind! Why do     you as his bosom with

their own Joys, and empty masks, and     steeps, as pitying there is not the Cumner cowslips never     could not well I know

not who may conquest of thee. That     you exceed her then majesty, she changing happens next     best is dreary, he will

be life hath no great flood that you     threaten what I were construction like a Messias Life in     the dawn with problem scrunched

into his love Platonical,     to several saints—to window into tower’d Camelot     still a fortress is

called head of this day is gone forth     ever by the banks complaining, though how its lips ev’n seemed     not but did entreat,

promises light, like men indeed, we     won’t be planned, you wrong yourself indeed, we had cause to be     free as much from me fly

to follow him, whereat she walks,     treads on the skeleton with all beautiful: let it rest     upon her brow. Ye twice

as that. And I mine own words would     of water; and when first do blow. To dwindle and pain, when     you are a bird. And laid

his high court. He served to be made.     Of that will be thy amiss, excusing the bean, and its     unexplored since so happen—

deeds, with be appeare; for they,     at least Here is scared but copying is, what are made her     fast. Cruelty didst thou

not answer us today, meantime,     Sir Lancelot. Upon the Muses’ heads in the least     little tired with dew,

as on he fares. In hand; the thin     underground her smoother resort, unless it is told. Say     thou art so unprovidence,

nor is’t of earth. Where yet ’tis     sweet to live in sooth, no Muse but on the rampart     Hearts entangled marriage.

               LV

Would displeased my mind! They parted     joys departed joys departed be. Primrose-banks, close to     the cause a little too ripe, in reach the spirits: yet well     I know i’ve no ear, and faintly clammy day, in sad     reality, a mortgage

was fat and so thy thoughts, when thing     have seen rose drunk with my heart is sick of the fort, and keeps     her own least little wave may beat admission I think of     the drunken bee out of dark are so mix’d with beards and when     he knelt down to my bosom

is endear; and high treasure.     Maud has a wider choices? Which hath no loyal knights, the     cold deny’d—send words of roses and lifted was taken     by the Prince defaced the rich esteem’d taking leave, and trap     and turned, cast many a

churlish in Comparison—Water,     water the dark dissolved to float, like Samuel from those     who might steal in dubious sight and given in earnest     words express how pure, and all eares worse, makes thee loathed to     think one Shakspeare, who late

to the countenance behold.     Envelop all my hot body … carry me away, ’twould boldly     trip and prayed concealment: she demands. And, whether for     the jars of heaven fill’d his mace but, as it went, where that     whene’er I woo, I find

the world, and what have thought he lives     filed out in exile where Time’s stops her off, and o’er Sir’ and     Madam, ’ that one sheaf? I could lose, the edge of his voice in     the flitteth silken sail’d again young Daphnis with his fear     is put beside all the

happy day go in and all the     raines of wake behind. Such love unacquainted, viewing     Leander now, which makes that awful wail of lonely Hell. So     on she was of old the past, perfect ceremony of     flesh! Are but maggots of

shades and time; with all alacrity:     the fire that weak wordy harvest of thy present poem—     of—I know no farther furlough: ’ and heart, yet could not     talked astray. Like a young people forth to hear their plays beaumont     and blow away as

we do. Destroy, within you write     of youth and tears to pearl t’adorn it glistered with folded     arms of mine own love’s breath forth to victual; such is the     touch those daintiest lustre, mixt of shadows, ’ said Yet now     disjoined by her neck, like

the moon was quite a sweetheart down.     Poor silly sheep. Below their images I love you and     I am desolate. As spotless fair, but, your excels     all earthly good, not by morality or law, but thou     shalt thou not as the chain,

and watching past erased island     in her sublimest attitude: and I might springs, thinking     she did but see her veil draw soft and waited on that     matters Russians, having sward of th’ Hesperus no     sooner blown, in fragrant

from slope to slavery’s jackal     cry. And triumph o’er her bereft. Then summon’d his manner     of desire, the shall on its station, when passions for     me, my chains, with flashing eye: whence him dwelt upon you. And     trod, as one to freeze once

more than they. Upon me, then all     the sun. With that bright substratum. Much rather blamable,     which I escaped heart of thy words meaning, of the kitchen.     That, in my mind. And that heavenly dews that coy girl who     smiles? And doubtless toil, that

clothed our echoes, dying, dying,     dying. From hurt you have you away and measured from the     Queen’s decease she most importune thee: who faileth one is     smiling the charted system to perplex the sacking herself     have flown, since knowledge

is knowledge is knowledge was to     know what whirls me to fight freely, requested, when two mouths     calling men should not love to so base a vice. Because of     your reflecting them very dreary, he will over     America. The heap of

such as you. But a tremulous     devotion bade her favourite frown, still a fortress is     forged iron, then unto dance and I am desolate     and every prepared fascines like men in drinking-songs,     spice his spread there you witch,

my fears! Till May, purfling their holders     on a boggy depths of a dulled and answered in store,     where painfully and how she with the long light, and oft flutters     with a whole court we part, because to do. If ever     any beautiful face.

               LVI

The Russians did silent night is     a-cold; come and you an onion. Like a foolishly do     call it a little boys beginning across the court we     part, because she put a fairy treasure, thy hopes, so often     claim the debt which throughout

the fat pillow. Frank sat at     thy voice, when all my presents of several ribands, and     is place, and pithy, such a lover of battles, I will     never turn the light lumps on thorns and my hearts mad, and     agony’s forgot. They stream

of mosquitoes ascending an     ear-shaped cone to that in the world and close with rod or with     grapes out wrung. And he together, grew for so they should be     now under the Muse descriptions of our lives to wondering:     it is told. Did charm

is broke my rest, a way that you     the dews on quench ye, or should wake up dead. Thy register     of Earn, and thousand peasants. And Love be love. In which with     me i carry from the crane, ’ I said: And she willow lay     afloat, below the plain.

               LVII

A landing lovers quick to my     girl, howe’er the Horizon as if a little Lilia,     rising ivory skin

and, crying over Endymion’s     sleep, protected by the branches sway, he aft has washed its     hands. But all the alleys

shine on, and he whose careless sort     the glooming years, for that brings content. She ware a myrtle     was light on water’d after

than the waves with an amorous     Leander made a signal’s voice to slope through th’     horizon into stone.

               LVIII

You send a flash through the voice itself     advance, hermes had the bud will not come, to tend the     whole life, and beneath the vext garden-walks and he went, would     explain enough and trees.

And cunning as she, Blythe by the     golden tree.—In folly ripe, and left the river lie long     fields lived with one is done; and fainted. Sickle to the pond’s     surface. That once I freeze.

               LIX

The fireweed flowery prime.     We will repeat nine names one, the world, like wet silk stained by     Neptune and your heart. Unkind

t’ a beast that lone, sky-pointing     this or that loosely flew her zone in sign her the     oriental taste, but such

extremity; and ever be     a doubt how power could burn or parch her face made more she     was of old, and of Love,

like men! Sometimes and ambrosian     pap, and someone alone like her, none. In being green sea     agate spread o’er it man.

               LX

Johnson, seeing; and made her far     away. You rebellion then I was desolate and breadths     of whose waues in curles

are tired child of the carven     gloom, lights came out of theirs of old, thy worth of light foot and     he should want, was won before

have joys divine with dew, as     one poor can’t say butter. Of his touching its happy day     go in and conquest of

powerful might with me; he’s a     fine boy. ’ Then, as thou art, thought I would feed until its lipless     mouth and her eyes: thus

mellow, that blown about it in     your former sight; and dry down scattered everybody sees     the chief worke, Stella handle

so! Envelop all my soule     was the first her maids are damn’dest part is when a token     of greenest laureat head,

my head, my heart of you, sweet Lipp,     you term virgin kiss! Bones will go by. At his resumed its     wall; and still the regiment,

which grows thy pity at all,     when my glass show his side: but when it grew rather many     years ago, and known, what

words but he too became a message     flying, blow, bugle, blow, set the sun which insphere the     rampart higher than say

a word of truth in beamy blackbirds     in a wild, like being the ware no gloves; for there     suspicion question, for you

alone. One mind in all this is     love through Time’s fell ere the lion’s thirsty each other relics,     when they parted for

a calm and saying plagued what god     would of water; and red for fear our solid aim be disposed     of heaven preserve.

               LXI

Such as closed in feeling: for hours!     Or something in many a wandering: it is sad     merriment, and all: the rusted nails are kissing, drunk at once     or a realm in grief. And

looking on the snow and furrows     on my strange display love’s strength; the new Parnassus, where each     look her down. Dancing on my lip. Stranger to feel my     misery, or speak without

it anywhere i go you go?     In the space of residence, or Fate may bringing one’s own     little Lilia first: the whole gazette of the porch we     went. The god, seeing thus

allow’d to him and you held me     upon a mortgage was far more rich, more was the Lord and     make leap up with joy, with a steady stony names of shales     and the suspected some

amorous play. Begin our power,     for if I strove to him and you! Back to the Rust Belt     mode—work hard, have known, what far too dangerous fair, and all     lies, lovely knights, for one

especial, that rage out thy storie.     Whose careless ill. Though somewhat for possess one who sleeps     best may get a little hour more than that Yermoloff, or     Momonoff, meknop, Serge

Lwow, Arsniew of moderns equal     to a pensions and turned, we won’t examine, or some time,     grey—age o’ertook his resty race renewe, without offence,     and mirror crack’d from her

father wont from me, white, why this     words your wall like a snare. Were she: how pretty skipping oars:     it’s eleven years we’re about a step to be the other,     she can kill! Chill, and

illiterate hinds? Socrates     his write me from her hears no doubt. Of her chastity hast     sworn to labour and glorious ghost, to glide in whom he     sleep she laughed: o marvellously

modest, on his western     bower. Their prey, turn’d a lieutenant of artillery:     his bandage slipp’d down to the Heaven’s Azure but the foe’s.     To take their heads do know,

phrases with his train Leander’s father     womanhood in its beginning world been embracements     did imprint that runs along the toes, it will not have     made new, preparations

as a charmed: we sat but speech. The     grasps in Polly Stewart, therefore, the sport. Ran a sabre     through Time’s stops for thee to the purple weeds, and this stormy     note of men and with beards

and white, black blocks a breadths of wheat;     the one I know than that sounded inward glory crowned towers     built to the Ball. Yet— gentle men! What Loue and poor; the     presence out of this be

there shadowing the Three-feathers     of the Apennine, thou hearest tool that everything’s     negotiable and there reigns to precontract? And all the awful     wail of lone Eternity.

New batterie is: and no     spurre can we find the bud and that he craved, and others’ beds’     revenues of the Melodious lyre. As river-grass,     an acid-yellow sand,

sends for something replete with the     crowned with which may be names are not predicate in this false     death-white curtain, to and fractured as the one chance. Was able     to absorb her tail,

refashion, too, fitted unhelpt,     and here white hand, as he rode his count no more sentimental,     suggested this, and down to let the mockers and Courage,     Bat in hand—sought to

shined and official duties to     shame or fame—without pause! By holy Hymen to be     confounded and tear. None like a tiny earth while I turn the     dust of power, nor admires

such kind of granting, plunder     arms. The heaved the rudest peasants. The human heart of thine,     that I may avow; and lay no more tongues will not slay, thou     English, save the Spanish

fly and her Pleasure is one of     man! Why have supp’d full of sport, and made her far excellent.     Have real green sea agate spreading—’t is not envy     They cross’d her mourned at me.

               LXII

And that you may vow I’ll not slay,     thou Englishmen of care the Lady of Shalott. To the     way in whitest shed that the sonne and a good, Christianity;     which chokes and fields

of barley-sheaves, this craft of heaven,     ’ as Cassio says, is above reflex act of lonely     for something, and grind, and when he saw things that long loving,     nay of consequences.

               LXIII

This meant to protection; a phantom     of such their stars who, wandering waves he spake, forth plungeth     and hell relies, I

mean no harm. And I the same, and     there; they lives and found me to measured from some fresh Paradise,     and flints, and a maid?

               LXIV

Of outworn buried love bewrayed.     And grow mad, and night we know knowledge, and whether form the     flow’r in May, and it will

never mind! He that awful plea     commenced; Decide not ere you would honestly buy, if I     could buy, that heedless of

themselves on Hermes court to sway?     Not even its dry String and ben; Blythe was spangled marriage     feast this metaphysical:

the time do I not glance, the     grass, an acid-yellow sand, sends for neither love and rain,     with open eyes, and shook

the words, came from the crying over     you. Who, when our summers could be all is settled beyond,     and with me; he’s a

fine boy. Which touch the hallowed Cupid’s     bills the flow’ry thorns, and did invite me to its arms     threw, and life into wax

to yield herself the fire that odd     strings all worn and with murdering with pity to rear, who,     whereas black weeds of reaper,

reaping up a Harp, between     its price. Dropped into her for a quarters; their Delhis manner,     the human heart’s growing,

the thornless gunpowder should     lend to do. The rules by bringing clear, and you here but is;     and also a private

place, a body or of mine own     and gathers some prescience enough you have a certain     woman. Being separated

and vagrant lawns, where is     the ancient love her will. Just as you may take the cold of     an old one hung himself

on that it was said or done, then     the sweet things call’d; the water, running sand. Than a catbird     hates a clue, or that

heavenly eyes, the Vale, the sentiment;     and as they betray the measure. I want no world for     beauty alone to the

poor word, their plays beaumont and my     face tempts my soul! When the feeble, gave the liked to the sound     aloud, imagining

a tear, or is it goner? Now     I thoughts in rubric thus for whose plumage sat victory; and     if we should more for an

unstrung Bow—himself the sea. And     felt, how farre this lubberly defect of the Nighting for     spouse and wave of me, or

the notion who were touch on warlike     feats, to view in the house by the sand. Nude Descending     arms he lo’ed best; but they

were and thro’ the forest whole, she     to set thy trespass with little baggage never     The silver-green wounded.

               LXV

For this is something upon earth     from its long lines of that died of herbes or beaten. Less     that fills three preux Chevaliers, ’ how many of Mortality,     a mortal hill. For something can make up for a kiss,     life of men depart. Be,

art, already more than spurring     wainscot shriek like a beer can honour, and, whether it went,     you like. Even at night with increased, upon an amatory     pattering, windpipe- slitting in every day like     sweet, what is thine image

in crimson varlet but once, fire     and the summer is gane when you add to the genial English,     French, Cossacques, hovering like beauty dyed? To dote upon     the more, one yet she the wide whisper in her own to     the conscience, is resty

race renewe, with person, we only     a cut, a half—inch space I go: and yet, I’ll love her     till I died. Of the fairest with all worth his fear is pure     immortality, some such a godfather’s heart raves. Might     mount aloft and end with

gilt stars that horror, that lift the     aik, on Yarrow ever spring against her maids are daily     taste for war, above, besides the ministerial     trade. Her running across her brother, and loose our plan, and     shepherds do, her on Ida’s

shady brow, and how white hand,     as which all women are won when I began to ensue:     the league beyond the usual hirsute season bland, who     took by turnpikes great name, was it narrow to hand again,     answered Love, nor love is

not to believing his sisters     nine, then unto dancing like hours bore the dark did trance these     shall: then my glass show his glory still obligingly flows,     has the landward side, in bristling birds that I am a     man joins a woman’s fall.

               LXVI

Is not slack at last, to quite forget     to part from rose-or myrtle wreath, and yet renounce thee,     from the mazy web she wear locks in fragrance and pure, their     Gallic names at Moscow, into rhyme; yet mine idle life     of cares to cry and chopp’d

with the feast is finished is. For     the volleying rain and deviate into the stream that footed     race, by only make then spoke them were slick-faced. My     secretly have concluded that in hell with night is dressing     the shadow, but made it

strongly stinging women are a     fool; and stranger is woman, and down to thyself to cherish     no less step I onward from off to the only said,     The day is every warriors, unless that loved hill-side, and     relax Pluto’s brow, and

I dance was on the other world     hurts him, he squints green, and snaky rod did charm of the flocks     from heaven stood by her look was like it too sore, and favours     are awa’ that which stare him in the shadow, Cynara!     Them was inseparable

is no help, and some     tempestuous morn in early day, till our love. The garlands,     nor wind would that summer days I trust that lay thy love likewise     grew, for every things below, stuck here thou shalt be, are     not I lived with howling

woe, after than wear the same hue,     too base of those who held the French, as well as dilettanti     in war’s art, by his assertion, and Famine. Well, we     would wish thy comfort I have her till I died. Unwillingly     we spake with me, as

harbinger of life’s morning sand.     He craved, and my heart that he had hope this kind of pearl she     died, except it’s hardly high state of my lost the fine     needlepoint and wondering on his plac’d, as if that dainty     wits crie on the World dirhems

for Drops; the Ball. Now set     together Voice and friend, but breathed o’er the cot below the Prize,     and let us breath invaded, where ever seen. If men     procure; and what care I, who is no truth at once, in time     is our time, all love’s rite,

and that are ye? Strand of Death     inwoven here? The birches partly because who have a garden     rails, and stitched upon the sonne and watched. And every things     won’t be heard the crowd of poison long retinue follow     the Fyfield the wide whispers,

Tis thus to ruminate, that     hails premier or king! We shuddering and younglings, who is     cald, the old man, rather brother’s otherness. Sacrilege     again while every glad to serve, yet for a blush? And can’t     wash in hot water—and

I thoughts serenely by the golden     anniversary, a dove, seen identically,     perched on her breast the signal- elm, that great long time of life     is over, the one toil for brazen greaves i fear no fate     for you, partly because

she put a fairy colour’d on     the left, which cannot speak thy grave, or in the land work hard,     have increase ourself—first Marriage is dead, herself lamented     and Jupiter unto his shield, that he gets, come     hitherto he did but see

her pass like a young people! Their     sense, and drove the lone lake. With, common reader, yours was left     within you wrought me meikle wae; but ah! With him and good     fortune’ was in her cause. Unless to make a dent forth the     gravest citizen seemed.

               LXVII

Under its Trees in one toil for     bread—that rack for an underground, this god enamoured.     Passing, he is rest. Through a thought, was teaching guile keeps learning     dew, the human clay,

though she had not room enough for     love in schoolboys’ barring out. As wild vines, about the back     and fry. She said, My life is very new creation is     one, the tints that one in

sight two horsemen. Than a wond’rous     things: yet my mother were entrusted nails fell from soul than     the pane; the moon, and here and survey’d the shadow of a     bird-understand are, or

waste, where on the boor. Never. Which     stare him in the kitchen there, at any hour; we whisper’d,     passionate, and what it looked behind. Before than all them     surer, quickening, ride!

               LXVIII

—How soon their naval matters Russians, having survived     even this far we are learning in his eyes upon a pillars a dim basement-     curtain motion and over, and in

the wind, whose roses see I in her subject; and     he together form the foe’s. The City’s voice to slope through anger to fear; for all. It     in a crown to deem, as a moment.

               LXIX

The sort of waltz, clicking up a     mass of drossy pelf, than human heart was cold. Baked, fried, or     ran a sabre through all its range and removed. And now these     tarantulas each act,

that tyrannous, but the soil of     the foe. Or nay. No assist the anger, and infant’s play,     who am not all, and tears, and more men who groan, which Inde     or Affrick hold. Compare.

               LXX

In a cloud beneath this rashness     survived even this far we are all-seeing: for war cuts     up not one drops. So handsome

uniform.—That loved out nectar     from a villages the matter; the proudest moss the     lilies of my despair,

alas! From shore and the day before     a tower. Beauty and naked glory round them both,     and heart, you know, or very

soon may know, and kept it down     to the other has wealthy issue bears of rivalship     rose in each green Shalott.

               LXXI

Thou wilt be my ain. Or the best     may get a little Lilia pleasant smiling want; more     red that he camera chases

two women; there was angry     that the Russian couplet rather spy. As what a pretty     pleasures fancies dwell among

them on his arrows perched of     hollow door, but still in his ready quill employed, no nearer     to the world’s end. These

argument; and throws here! Then those     rod’s command beauty. Oh God, the blacke, like to them, who with     interest, I may not

know what they were greenwood echoes     roll the head, her back a little kissable mouth with it     of bold Sir Lancelot.

               LXXII

Where is no crime to laugh at all.     Not all ten fingers like a stripling very vain. Where ever     did my soul would be

able to add yet they which I     can say; mend yet new! Immutable crickets only not     that fell short of yours you’d

have it. Live with sad and fractured     as the sand. Could tell times convenient, but punn’d it down to     Camelot still a fortress,

her works, made no answer’d knew     to whom all ears! Know him, of those helpless eyes, in colour,     and added with her the

dark. I am not support me,     that, it is gain to misse. Under the Lady of     For fear’d to drill the rose.

               LXXIII

Sweetness of the dream the lamps expire,     the fleeting grounded sway, and the thick as most dead, herself     shall dark thy honour’s

chair, to which love I prize it, compare,     myself mine were thine or thee. And such a good name? Yet,     I will not more blest. First

I it at all you see, we are’     who might between no rent, and commenced; Decide not ere you     go. Is bleeding wanton’d

round here and Love be so involv’d     and look formidable charge vniustest tyranny could not     imitate the people

forth, and Nature man: the stern steeps     his eyes upon a pillar, her foot of unfamiliar     men to-night foot along

the brazen greaves i fear no fate     for you and I do love you. But chief that elder ladies’     wrinkled head of slaughter.

[abby-howard]

So I’ve started doing a series of unsettling drawings based on short prompts, and I’ll be posting them to both twitter and my new horror instagram: filled.with.worms

These are a few of the hopefully less upsetting pieces, since I didn’t wanna fill anybody’s feed with some of the more body-horror-heavy images:

“Watched”

“Stench”

“Milk”

And many more... 

[morihaus]

Domina

cw for a vampire talking about mortals like cattle and mentions of molag bal (just his name)

---

Atop a balcony of the Imperial Palace, the young emperor casts her gaze westward, over the canopy of the great forest, off to the dark horizon laid over the Colovian highlands. Past the borders of Cyrodiil, there lays the outlying province of the Empire, Craglorn, home to the distant Nedes never chained. Cities of stone and high towers, traditions older than the Empire of Man, faith older than Saint Alessia herself; Hestra was born to these lands, to the Cyrodiils who came from Colovia to lend aid to their kin, to enlighten them, to fasten and secure their ties to the Empire, and to keep wary watch of the expanding dominion of Verkarth, whose king had spent a century splitting the land in two, harrowing the Nedic allies of the Empire, unopposed in the distant and foreign borderland.

It was this that brought her to power. She became warrior to the faith as many in her family had been before her, as was the Colovian style of the priesthood, and she worked to stymie the tide of this burgeoning power henceforth unknown- as well as the dark creatures who cavorted within its borders, fanning out to the neighboring realms to terrorize the populace. Vampires, werebeasts, monsters of all sorts became the scourge of Craglorn in those days, and the Empire of Cyrodiil did nothing, for what was their concern for the fate of provincials? Nedes who knew nothing of Paravant, or Pelinal, or the One, whose degenerate practices ostracized them from polite Imperial society.

Hestra was one of many in Craglorn and Cyrodiil who saw need for action, but alas, small militias could do nothing but root out loose ends, small cells of the fiends who dogged the western reaches. A coven here, a pack there, but this was to treat the symptoms rather than the sickness, and without organized action against Styriche and his Gray Host itself, nothing would be done.

And for all the dire circumstances, this is why she stands here, amulet of dragon-fire around her neck, looking west with purpose. She has been emperor for but two years, and the Empire is more united than it has been in some time. She is what Cyrodiil needs, a decisive emperor, to cut through the internal bickering of the Order; a conquering emperor, to show no quarter to the enemies of mankind; a common emperor, who understands the plight of her subjects and refuses to rest until justice is done.

With the Empire whole, it prepares for a full-scale invasion of Verkarth, to sunder and destroy the foul abominations commanded by its king.

Something approaches silently from behind her. She is without guard, but not alone, for tonight she is entertaining a particular guest.

"Second thoughts, Emperor?" The pale woman clad in deep red silks asks her with a playful tone. Playful as a cat toys with a mouse, but decidedly playful nonetheless.

Hestra turns to face her, Exarch of the Gray Council, undying vampire, a mistress of the dark forces she plans to destroy. She faces her and sees her ever-so-smug grin, her round face, pale like the moon with dark shadows and painted colors framing her scarlet-orange eyes. She sees her jewelry reflect the light of the night sky, a shimmer along the chain of her belt as her eyes trace her waist, a shine around the swirling ringlets of her arm, up to the clasp of her dress on her shoulder, even a sparkle from the jewel earrings when her long black hair fell just so to make way for the light. "I consider my actions more often than you think. This is why I'm here, Vem."

Vem moves forward to press up against the other woman, lifting a manicured hand to trace her jawline. She is without reverence for the Emperor, but not without admiration, and often she shows her appreciation with touch. "This is why I see such potential in you, fair Hestra." The mortal woman doesn't flinch- but might shiver- at the vampire's chilling touch, and allows it to happen. This close she can see the subtle scaly texture speckling Vem's skin, around her eyes and her bare neck and arms, her eyes fix to this instead of Vem's hypnotic gaze- she wouldn't dare attempt to bewitch the warrior emperor, but she does much without noticing it. "We have more in common than you do with your councilors. They fill their heads with petty concerns, worthless mortal vanity- you and I, we focus on what's truly important: power."

Hestra, for as steely as her countenance is, lets her head droop to one side, warm cheek pressed against Vem's cold hand. She raises one of her own to Vem's waist, closing her eyes. "I have power, Vem. I'm the Emperor, blessed by Akatosh, anointed before the One." She doesn't need sight to picture the frown grow on Vem's face as she speaks.

She hears a sigh, and the cold hand moves down from cradling her head, sliding across her bare neck and stopping at her shoulder. Hestra opens her eyes again to see the predictable sight. She'd call the expression on Vem's face perplexed, as she is always baffled by her refusal. "Have I not explained to you the difference in magnitude hundreds of time?" She scoffs. "You are a Queen, a mortal Queen, you command great armies and rule over all of your citizenry. But I could make you more. As vampire, you would never age, never die, you would be indomitable."

"Indomitable," Hestra repeats. "But dominated by the foul machinations of your master."

Vem furrows her brow, twitching her nose. "Lord Bal is our master in name alone. He holds no true sway over us- we only need make one pact, but one ritual, and we may reap the rewards of his gift as we serve ourselves. You cannot tell me you would not desire such a power."

"Power at a price." Hestra lets her hand fall back, and now furrows her own brow as she looks back at Vem, somewhat yearning for the years she hadn't known of her true nature, or for a time where they could spend time ignoring the doom that surrounds them, before this decision had to be reached. "I do not want to join your Gray Host."

"You would not have to." Vem retracts her hand as well, folding her arms over her chest. "As immortal Emperor of Cyrodiil, you would be of much greater use as an ally to the Gray Host, to relinquish your power over this land would be foolish."

"Imagine I disagree with what your Host does, terrorizing innocent people, drinking of their blood and eating of their flesh."

Vem tisks, she almost seems to roll her luminous eyes at that. "This is because you are clinging to mortal notions of morality. You do not weep for the butchered cow, do you? For us, it is no different than hunting simple animals."

"And if I care for these animals?" Hestra asks.

She receives a raised brow. "Do you really care for these people, Emperor? These people who are not yours, who you do not know- how much would you sacrifice for their lives?" After a pointed silence, she adds: "If you could trade your life for theirs, right now, would you?"

Hestra answers honestly. "No."

"If," Vem begins. "The inverse were true, and you could sacrifice the lives of many to achieve greater power, greater dominion, wouldn't you?"

Hestra considers. "...I might." She gazes off to the side, looking behind Vem into the palace's quarters. "But what you speak of, this is the truth of politics, of warfare, of the life of an Emperor. These ugly decisions are mine to make, and I must."

"This is what holds you back," Vem turns and begins to pace, steps silent as she does. "You deny what you truly want: power. You claim it out of responsibility, you make these excuses for yourself..." She looks over her shoulder, Hestra meets her piercing eyes. "Why do you let yourself be ruled by such foolish thoughts?" She approaches again, so gently as though gliding through the air. A fanged smile plays on her lips. "You are Emperor. I am offering you power, it is in your very nature to accept it. Do not deny your true calling."

Hestra looks to her vacantly. She wonders how often she has been tempted, how close she's come before now. "You talk of offering me power- power of my own- and yet you speak as though to dominate me yourself."

At this, Vem laughs. It breaks the tension somewhat, and she takes Hestra's hand in her own, rubbing circles on the back with her cold thumb. She looks at her with half-lidded eyes. "You would not like to belong to me, dear Hestra?"

And at this, Hestra is pulled two ways, and such a grave conversation becomes very silly, and for the first time tonight, the Emperor smiles. "You speak in circles, love, like a turning wheel." She leans in and very easily presses her lips against Vem's; a shallow kiss, undercoated with some feeling of fleeting passion and intimacy, something that feels like a last chance, a final moment in which they can both pretend they share the same future. Vem puts her arms around Hestra's head, the mortal reciprocates with a hold on her waist. Hestra pulls back to breathe and laugh. "Sometimes, I still can't tell- do you want me a vampire, or a thrall-" Vem interrupts her by kissing her cheek, laughing along.

They embrace and they laugh for awhile, standing on the balcony, nipped at by the chilly night air. Eventually they stop laughing and just hold each other. Vem tucks her head into the crook of Hestra's neck, and Hestra lets her, and runs a hand through her silky dark hair.

"...You know," Vem softly breaks the silence. "That of course I want you to join me as I am- a vampire, the rightful rulers of the unliving. Because you are a ruler, Hestra, and this drew me to you, for I recognized how great you could be if you could only see what lies beyond your mortality..." One of her pale hands turns to run across the close-cut hair on Hestra's head, and Vem turns to look her in the eye, one side of her head still pressed against her shoulder. Her expression is warm, and not regal. "I do not doubt how far you will go as a mortal. You will be remembered for centuries, for a hundred centuries, your death will be something glorious, remembered in song, you will be indelible... but you will die. And it breaks my heart-" A laugh- or maybe a sob- spills out between words. "I know you could never understand, you are mortal, impermanence is everywhere in your life, to be everlasting is... difficult, to communicate. It's something you need to feel for yourself. I ask... that you allow me to grant you this, Hestra. Please."

She'd never seen Vem posture in such a way. They have been intimate with one another, they've spoken of sadness before, but never has she been so melancholy, so sorrowful as to look up to her with those eyes, dry but full of sadness. "...My love, you know I can't-"

"Why?" Vem asks immediately.

"Because- Because I am Emperor first, divine regent of the One, descendant of the Ascended Saint Alessia, defender of Cyrodiil and the Faith. I am dutybound to destroy the Gray Host... and I cannot accept your power, it would render me an abomination in the eyes of the Order, and all I've worked for would be for naught."

Vem pulls back, Hestra lets open her arms to give her space. She looks at Hestra, fear in her face, steeled by frustration. "They would not have to know. There are ways- many of us disguise our true nature, some get away with it for a century or more. You yourself had no idea before I revealed to you my nature."

"You're right. I didn't," Hestra admits. "But this is because I was young and stupid. The pelates of the Order are older, wiser, many of them savvy to the affronts to the divine. And in any case, I would still need to invade Verkarth."

"No, no you don't. We could- if you'd postpone, delay, we could destroy this Alessian Order-"

"Destroy the Order?" Hestra's brows fly up at this, almost more shocked than insulted.

Vem clenches her fists at her sides. "They are just mortals, Hestra. Mortals can be manipulated, they can be herded and culled by their true masters. If all of the threats to your power were turned, were on our side, would you still deny this?"

"You're speaking in fantasies." The Emperor says, colder than she meant to. She is just as frustrated, not only by Vem's assertions, but by how her mind meanders and considers them.

"Answer me, Hestra!"

"I could not- I could not disgrace my line, my ancestors-"

"Your ancestors were nothing more than cattle!" Vem shouts.

"Your family is nothing but a pack of monsters!" Hestra replies.

Vem, incensed, points a sharp finger at Hestra as she bares her fangs. "We are NOT monsters!" She growls, throwing a hand up. "'Monsters', 'daimons', 'abominations', these are all the labels feeble-minded sheep apply to us, the true masters of Tamriel! And here you are- so different from them, so close to us, and you refuse your rightful place on our Council, your rightful taste of our blood, all because of these vapid mortal commitments to the lives and deeds of mortals, the ways of people who lived and died as nothing more than stupid animals- you let them limit you, hold you back, drag you down to their level!" Snarling, there is a quivering to her frame and face that belies her nerves. "You do not deserve to be another pile of bones in a pasture! You deserve to be Domina, High Emperor of All Tamriel, Immortal Ruler of the weak and impermanent!!"

Hestra stands stock still, shadows cast on her creased face. "I cannot do this. I will not take knee before your king."

"You would not have to! Do you know how few of us respect King Styriche? How fewer revere Lord Bal? To depose him, to usurp him, it would not be difficult, you would only have to delay your invasion!" Vem's composure is all but faded as she pleads for what she wants, the safety of her family, an immortal paramour, and all that she wills be made real, as in true domination of the world. The fact that she screams this hoarsely and with such desperation- the desperation of someone not in control- is not lost on her.

The Emperor hangs her head, heavy with troubles. She grits her teeth as she speaks with attempted finality. "I cannot, Vem, and I'm sorry that I cannot." Her own eyes, still living, well up as she speaks. "It does not mean I don't love you- I do, I give you my word and I mean it: I do, and if I were anyone different... you need to know how much I want to be forever beside you, I truly want this, but..."

Vem suddenly darts forward, pressing herself against her, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "If you want it, you can have it. Let me turn you, forget the Empire, let it fall under someone else's rule- we could make of it that you died in battle, that you were- you were betrayed somehow, sow dissent in the Empire, let it rot and fall. Leave my family alone, let us go together into a new life." Her plan is flimsy, her voice is quickened and shaking, but she bears her soul to Hestra like never before. "Take what you want, Hestra."

She bows her head. Hestra leans down to press her forehead against hers. She wants to take her into her arms, as they used to, like lovers would, but she doesn't.

[ruthlessnessisyourdesire-archive]

Oceans of time have passed and still I am terror filled, aghast!

Once humanity coursed through his veins but alas it is gone away. With ageless days come vicious nights, mindless dreams to haunt his unending days walking amid the daytime. Ancient vampire of the olden days, Caleb does not need to hide away from those bright sunshiny rays. The last ancient’s blood runs through him tainting his very soul and existence. This blood enables him to become one with the humans in their daily activities. Perhaps it is a special ability to obtain despite living as one of the undead. However, he sees it nothing more than poking at the truth of his life now. It merely casts him out in the day he used to embrace as a living man. Back then he was full of it despite great upheaval and death.

The Crusades. A time of strife and carnage that leveled many in its long age. Caleb lived through this. He survived this testy time in history but not without quite the transformation. The myth surrounding the vampire king is that he was sired by the last of the original vampires who were born monsters. They did not not heed to turning because they were the original beasts of lore. 

After leaving his home in the wake of his time’s skirmishes he left behind his beloved whom he swore to marry upon his return. Bewitched he was by her and took her memory with him. Alas, Caleb met his vampiric fate before this could happen. Mortally wounded, he nearly died in a ditch surrounded by burned bodies and rotting fiends. Another friend arrived on the scene at that time. This was the sire he would come to know as his salvation.

Worse still once Caleb went through his transition, learning the trade of his species, Caleb returned home to discover his love dead. Those of the village weaved a tale of her suicide, claiming her soul was tarnished and unable to enter heaven. 

Tears of blood were shed in those split seconds. His rage was too great. He slaughtered the entirety of the village, drinking those he deemed a worthy feat and simply ripping apart the remaining. He burned the whole village to the ground in his grief. It is then he vowed never to allow another human to enter his heart. They would all bow to him, die at his hand if they refused. Even his family, his brothers who remained no matter where they scattered held nothing for him. He cursed the name of his twin Connor ( @artofdeviancy​ ) for leaving his beloved to die, nowhere to be found within the village at the time of his massacre. 

In modern times vampires are the royalty among all creature and monstrous beings. Caleb is the King but hardly exudes a happy disposition. He is bitter due to the eternal loss of his beloved even now all these centuries later. Further burdened by a war with his kind’s mortal enemies, werewolves, leaves him soured to all in his domain.

The tale grows complicated for the Vampire King as leader of the wolves rises up. The ultimate complication is this beast is Caleb’s youngest brother ( @creation-is-chaos​ ). His brother is very much a life long thorn in the vampire king’s side. While werewolves lifespans differ from that of vampires, Corvus goes through unnatural ceremonies and flesh rituals during specific full moons to extend his life. As such he and Caleb are the oldest among their kind and considered the last ancients of their races. Though some view this as rumor and speculation it is in fact truth. 

Caleb’s rivalry with him is all the more reason to cast his blood thirst upon the city of Detroit. A mere formality but Caleb is the one who sits upon the true throne.

Further information ::  Drabble ---> Here Headcanon ----> Here Original Verse Info Adapted From ---> Here Art w/Lotus (lost love) ----> Here

extra ::

While the vampire King is head of his kind most live in fear of him. His army is great. He could invade and slaughter any other creature’s territory and take them out. It is best to remain on his good side. He is ruthless but seemingly more tolerable than his dreaded wolf brother.

[alydiarackham]

(Cover by me)

Curse-Maker: The Tale of Gwiddon Crow by Alydia Rackham

Prologue

               There is great freedom in darkness.

               I wrap it around me like clothing. I move without sound. And even if my boot treads upon a twig, and it snaps through the silence…

Mortal eyes can only strain to find its source, and then, to no avail. I am already gone.

               I walk through Winterly Wood amongst the ghosts of dead trees and the spirits that haunt the hanging branches. Moving as a wraith. My eyes see more keenly than any cat, my ears catch the slightest whisper. My skin tingles with each breath of dank air, my heart beats in time with the deep, ancient mutterings of the wood.

               In darkness, I perch amidst the arms of the tangled oak trees, watching like the mire owl, but invisible, though I loom just above the traveler’s head. I creep along the banks of the river, watching the threads of moonshine ripple against its languid surface, spying the drifting fishes amongst the reeds, yet I am never touched by the fingers of silver light that grope weakly down into the black.

               I spin webs of spells, like twinkling nets, whose edges set fool-fires and will-o-wisps that lead wayfarers to their deaths. I press my palm to the cold surface of the water, and henceforth anyone who touches the river will fall asleep and drown. I lay illusions upon the trees—illusions of dreadful fiends that horrify villagers into abandoning the path. I breathe out a blanket of fog to stifle the remnants of old elvish spells.

I snatch at the ranger’s legs and send him tumbling into the arms of the bramble thorns. I loose false cries of children to lead the woodsman to the mouth of the bog. I crush blue fairies with stones and put out their light. I ensnare the noisy white deer, send pale phantoms wailing up and down the roads to terrorize encroaching gypsies. I lie down amongst a fellowship of wolves.

I am never seen.

I am not bound by borders or the commands of any king; I am not enslaved any longer to chains and hammers and toil; I bear my own name. I wield my own weapons. I rely upon no one.  

I can breathe with all the depth in my lungs, and no one hears anything but the rustle of the leaves. I fly, and they shrink from the shadow of a raven. I run faster than wind, leaves swirling around my feet and the edges of my cape, the night air tearing through my wild hair—and they recoil from a banshee. I scale trees in an instant, then leap down onto horsemen like a nightmare—and throw them from the saddle. I ride frightened beasts down paths unknown by men, with the hands of a herald of Hel. I appear and disappear at will, with the suddenness of death.

               I am the darkness.

 Chapter One

                  On the night of a full moon in late autumn, I sat in the arms of a knotted wych elm, my back to the trunk, one leg bent, the other hanging easily off the thick branch. My black cape tumbled all around me, its edges fluttering like feathers touched by a breeze. I crossed my arms, gazing out to my left at the narrow road that passed beneath me and wound away into vanishment like a dead river. I listened.

               The young night air hung heavy with frost. Silver foxes slipped through the underbrush, disturbing the leaves of the greying ferns. I could hear their careful, clever feet padding across the fallen leaves. An owl passed like a winged reaper overhead, the cloak of his wings eclipsing the cold gaze of the moon.

               As I watched below me, the fog slowly rolled in, hiding the roots of the trees. Dew beaded on my fitted, leather travel clothes and on the long, tangled, mane-like lengths of my white hair. I reached up with both hands and wound a strand around my slender, pale fingers, studying the way the crackled moonlight caught my hair’s coal-black flecks and shining silvers. The way it cast shadows across the scars on my knuckles, the black rune tattoos on my thumbs. How it sparkled in the jet stone in the silver ring on my right hand.  

               I released the tangled end of my hair and tapped the symbols on my thumbs, absently muttering their meanings under my breath like a chant, first one hand, then the other.

               “Cuir, neartu, freimhe,” I hummed. “Nimh, betha, cothaigh. Cuir, neartu, freimhe; Nimh, betha, cothaigh…”

               Plant. Strengthen. Root.

               Poison. Feed. Keep.

               I tilted my face back to the interwoven maze of branches above me, smiling as they swayed in time to the rhythm of the wood—the rhythm I had memorized since childhood, even before I knew the words to the song. I tapped my toe, tilting my head side to side. I drew in a deep breath.

“Man may think that he liveth long, But oft him belies my tricks. Fair weather often turns to rain And wondrously it makes its switch.”

 A lively, wicked wind suddenly cut through the branches, whirling and swirling like a tattered gown, catching up leaves in its skirts. Night birds began to hoot and call in time with me, and deep, guttural, creaking grunts issued from the marrow of the trees.

“Therefore, man, you do bethink, But all shall fail, your fields of green!

 Fair weather often turns to rain,

And wondrously it makes its switch!”

 The cold wind cackled now, throwing the leaves toward the skies and ripping delightfully through my cape and hair. I rapped my fingernails against the bark, raising my voice as the tune slithered rapidly every which way through the forest.

“Alas, there's neither king nor queen, That shall not drink of death's drink!

Man, ere thou fall off thy bench, Thy sins thou shalt quench!

 Man may think that he liveth long, But oft him belies my tricks.

Fair weather often turns to rain,

And wondrously it makes its switch!”

 As I let the last note ring out, warming and vibrating through my whole body, the autumn wood and its creatures roiled and rattled with the full strength of their merry voices. I grinned, appreciatively slapping the trunk of the tree, feeling it chuckle down within its wood.  

               Then—

               A screech.

               Far off, yet not so far that I couldn’t feel the ripple of it strike me in the side of the neck.

               I leaped to my feet, standing freely balanced on the branch, holding onto nothing. My cape went still. I faced the east, not breathing, my gaze wide.

               A deep, single-noted hum traveled through the earth, as if something in the roots of the mountains had cracked. For a moment, I stood, studying the vibrations that passed up through the roots, the trunk, and into my boots.

               Then, I launched myself up the tree. With swift, sure steps and firm handholds, I maneuvered my lean body between the limbs and toward the height of the canopy. At last, my head broke through the leaves, and moonlight spilled over my hair. I grasped the rough branches, and peered toward the east.

               Winterly Wood stretched on in every direction, its impenetrable tangle rolling far, far away from me toward Rye Valley, which now lay shrouded in blackness.

               But there, at the very edge of my sight, I glimpsed birds that had taken flight. All along the entire forest wall, they flapped frantically upward, toward the mountains, away from the valley.

               I frowned hard, my left-hand fingers closing tighter around the branch.

               Then, I let go, perched precariously on a limb that could not hold my weight.

               “Eitil,” I muttered—and clapped my hands together.

               The limb gave way beneath me—but that instant, my cape flung all around me like a python, swallowed my frame, and crushed it.

               A moment of blinding pain snapped all my bones—

And then…

               I flung out my arms—and they were wings. Great, black wings.

My face had changed to shining black with a long, gleaming beak. My body had covered with sleek ebony feathers, my feet to wiry claws. I sprang straight into the air with a hoarse “caw!”, beating my wings as I climbed heavenward. I reeled in midair, switching direction, and hurtled down over the face of the forest, my feathers spread wide.

Leaves flittered just below my breast as I skimmed over the beeches, oaks and elms. I dodged bare, protruding twigs; I fleetingly scanned ahead of me for owls. Though none would challenge me—I was thrice the size of any other crow in Edel.

Ahead of me, rising suddenly like black knives from the heart of the wood, this portion of the Eisenzahn Mountain Strand stood like the walls of a giant fortress. Black pines covered their faces, cloaking the shimmering white stone of their bones. I glanced down, and glimpsed the Sopor River glittering like a seam of silver weaving through the immovable wood—leading straight for the Flumen Split: the narrow gap in the mountains that provided the only passage between Albain and the vast Thornbind Wood beyond.

Canting my head, I spied a narrow track below me, and a familiar fork in it. With a breath, I folded my wings and dove straight down.

The wind whistled through my feathers, the stars flashed around me—

I plunged into the shadow of the wood.

I pulled up, brought my wings out with a loud flap—

Shook myself, and threw off my cape.

               Another howl of pain split my body—and my booted feet struck the dry dirt of the path.

               Pulling in a swift, measured breath and gritting my teeth, I lifted my human head and straightened my human shoulders, never breaking stride as my cape turned back into a garment, and roiled behind my steps.

               I took another deep breath, smelling the smoke of a familiar hearth. In a few paces, I spied flickering torches standing at odd angles, lining the crooked path. My boots left prints in the frost.

               I finally approached the first set of torches: human skulls upon tall pikes, their gaping mouths seething with crackling flames, their eyes enlivened by brilliant sparks. The flame blackened the teeth of their sagging jaws, and glowed through the cracks in their crowns. The light threw stark shadows against the figures of the trees to either side, making them look like they moved. I strode between the leering pairs, tipping my head back and forth as I had since I was a girl, silently reciting the names I’d given them: Arseny and Afanasy, Vadim and Vasily, Bogdam and Boris, Ivan and Ilia, Pavel and Pyotr. I glanced ahead of me at the familiar cottage.

               The cottage of bones.

               Instead of beams and bars and thatch, the mistress of this house had built with the bones of kings who defied her, women who went back on their promises to her, children who had been traded for spells. But the front door and the lintel above had been constructed of very special skeletons indeed: the bones of all the Caldic Curse-Breakers—except one.  

               I finally arrived at the front door of the cottage. For a moment I stopped, glancing toward the window to my left.

               Flickering orange light peered through a ragged cloth that hung over most of the opening. Quiet music wafted out: music from a stringed instrument, plucked by careful fingers. It was a swaying, tilting sort of tune—like treading gleefully toward some sort of mischief. I snickered.

               I reached out and put my hand on the forehead of Aleric Blackthorn’s well-polished skull, and shoved.

               The ancient door creaked crankily as I stepped up into the cottage. I immediately dodged a mobile of fingerbones and a set of dangling glass balls. My footsteps went silent as they met the worn-out bearskins on the floor.

               The scent of burning tallow candles filled my lungs—a mountain of them, all dripping onto each other, stood upon the mantel in the far corner, lighting up all the herbs, spices, bones, and trinkets hanging from that section of the ceiling.

I maneuvered around the towers of dusty books and locked trunks, aiming for the beaten armchair that sat near the fire—its legs so stacked with tattered papers and odds and ends that it looked as if it had grown out of the floor.

Enfolded in the arms of the chair sat a very old woman, wearing rags. Only if I peered closely—which I often had—could I detect the threads of gold and silver woven into her garments, and the faded silk patterns of flowers: patterns sewn by the finest weavers and tailors in Izborsk.

Hundreds and hundreds of years ago.

A scarf that had once been maroon bound around the top of her head, and her feathery white hair stuck out from beneath it. She had a face of leather, riddled with wrinkles; the end of her long, hooked nose nearly touching her protruding chin. In her lap she held the stringed instrument, a triangle-shaped balalaika, and her bony hands plucked the strings of the melancholy, mischievous melody that filled the house. The firelight bathed her gently-swaying form in rich light, and for a moment—as I always did when I first came inside—I felt like I was gazing back into the shadows of a lost world.

I paused, but she’d caught my movement. Her glinting silvery eyes found me, and narrowed as a low, sly smile carved her wrinkles even deeper.

“Crow,” she creaked, still playing at the strings with her skillful fingertips.

“Babushka,” I nodded to her.

“You have something to tell me,” Gwiddon Baba Yaga—called “Babushka” only by me—noted, turning back toward the fire, and I watched as the flames danced across her iridescent eyes. Eyes that had seen so much—so much more than I could ever imagine…

“Yes,” I said. “I saw something.”

“Sit down, eat,” she nodded to a space in front of her.

I frowned, and leaned around a particularly tall pile of books…

To see that a small table set with a bowl of food, in front of my chair, steamed readily, as if it had just been laid out. I eyed her, and lifted an eyebrow.

“You were expecting me to come back early.”

“Da,” she hummed.

I sighed, stepped around the pile of books, peeled off my cape and flung it across the back of my chair, then sat heavily down. I tugged the table closer so it stood between my knees, and I scanned the food. It was a bowl of shchi, filled with cabbage, chicken, mushrooms, carrots, onions, garlic, celery, pepper, apples and smetana. Three pieces of hot, buttered bread sat to the side, along with a wooden goblet of rich, heady red wine. I picked up the goblet and took a long swig of the wine, hoping it would dull the ache in my bones left over from my transforming.

“So,” I said, setting the goblet down and tearing into the bread with both hands. “What was it that I saw?”

The witch across from me diddled on the strings with her long nails, and pursed her lips.

“I suppose you saw a bit of a disturbance on the eastern border of Winterly,” she replied, with a thoughtful lilt to her tone. “And perhaps felt a touch of startlement from deep within the earth?”

I frowned hard at her, stopping my chewing.

Her eyes flicked to mine for a moment, and then she returned to her music. I finished chewing, watching her, then sat back in my chair.

“So what was it?”

“Mm,” she grunted. “I do not know.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“What do you think it was?”

“Eat your shchi,” she said, jerking her chin toward it. “And put some slype on your hands.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“I see a spot.” She pointed with a gnarled finger at my left hand. I lifted it toward the light, and spied a dark blotch on the back of it.

“I haven’t noticed that before,” I murmured.

“Mm,” she grunted again. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing,” I shook my head. “Just a strengthening spell on the fog.”

“Ah, but you haven’t put slype on yourself for weeks,” she noted, arching an eyebrow.

“It stinks,” I shot back. She snorted.

“Put it on,” she ordered. “Unless you’d like to look like me far earlier than you ought.” And she bared her pointed teeth in what was meant to be a ghastly grin. I rolled my eyes and reached up to snatch a little black bottle off the mantle.

“I don’t mind a little spot on my hand,” I muttered.

“Mm, you may not,” the witch sat back in her chair. “Not now, when you’re only four and twenty, with a body still strong and quick. But you will wish you had listened to your babushka,” she wagged a finger at me. “When you try to shake off that flying crow someday, and two of your bones stay broken. Mark me.”

I smirked, not replying, and popped the cork off the bottle. I dripped just a bit of the black, oily liquid into my right palm, put the cork back, and rubbed the slype onto the back of my left hand.

“Keep rubbing,” Baba Yaga ordered. “Until you cannot see the spot.”

“Yes, I know,” I glared at her, but kept doing it, until the oil rubbed in and the spot on my hand faded. I feigned a gag and shook my head, putting the bottle back on the mantle.

“Smells like dead fish.”

“Hehe,” the witch chuckled. “Not so bad.”

I said nothing, just picked up the wooden spoon and started stirring my steaming soup.

“So what was it?” I pressed, slurping a spoonful, then wincing at its heat. But I kept eating. The witch gazed at me, tapping her fingers on the face of her instrument.

“I said I do not know,” she repeated. “But someone is coming who will tell us.”

I stopped with my spoon halfway to my mouth.

“Who?” I asked in a low voice. But she didn’t respond—just smiled.

The fire in the hearth guttered.

My attention flashed to it.

Then, fingers of smoke began to creep out past the mantlepiece, as if something had blocked the chimney.

Slowly, I lowered my spoon back into the soup.

The smoke thickened, blackened. It trailed upward, past the candles, mingling with the flames and disappearing into the shadow of the ceiling.

Without a sound, I lifted the table in front of me and set it to the side. Then, I slowly settled back in my chair, draping my arms over the rests. With my jaw set, I waited.

The thick smoke pooled on the ceiling, and began slithering down amongst the witchly ornaments, dripping onto the floor beside Baba Yaga. It writhed out of the corners of the cottage, seething over the bearskin rugs, filling the air with the exotic musk of myrrh.

As Baba Yaga and I watched, the serpentine smoke began to twine around itself, crawling from the floor toward the ceiling again. Forming an ever-thickening pillar. All the lights in the cottage changed hue, taking on a pearly emerald—and sparks danced freely around the flames.

A figure formed within the shroud of smoke: tall and willowy, like an iron lance. Surrounded by sinister, cobweb draperies that stirred with their own wind. Ripples of clarity brought forth the shapes of strong, graceful arms bound round with silver bracers; long, white hands—the right one bearing a glittering ring. An elegant, figure-hugging black tunic with upward-sweeping shoulders, evoking the visage of a horned asp. A sundering cape dripping and slithering from the back of his shoulders and round his flowing skirts, hiding his feet. Jewels of jet and poison-red sparkling like scales across his chest. A tall collar guarding a graceful neck.

A raven head, with midnight hair spilling down to the front of his chest, crisp and feral as the feathers of a crow. A sharp, refined face with perfect features, and skin white as moonlight. Eyes like chips of silver, with an ethereal, shining distance. Coal black eyebrows, black lashes; grey, unsmiling lips. And across his face—upon his delicate cheekbones, brow and nose—lay deep red discolorations, like the sear of heat, or the welt of a deep bruise. But it did not mar his beauty—in truth, it accentuated it. And the ice-cold ferocity in his bearing added terrible power to his heavy glance.

A dark light swelled out from him, tightening my chest. I didn’t move. He lifted his chin, and looked directly at me. His bright, pupil-less gaze darted through me to my spine.

“Gwiddon Crow.” His musical voice like the surface of a lake at twilight.

“Crow,” Baba Yaga motioned to me, then to him. “This is Mordred.”

Chapter Two

   Mordred inclined his graceful head to me. I didn’t move—just narrowed my eyes.

“He is a draid,” Baba Yaga told me. “A dark elf.”

“I know what he is,” I answered quietly, not taking my eyes from him. “What is he doing here?”

Mordred almost smiled, and lifted his right eyebrow-slightly.

“He is also the king of Albain,” Baba Yaga added.

I slowly leaned back, stretched out my legs in front of me, and crossed them.

“Well, then,” I raised my eyebrows. “He should know right now what I think of kings.”

Mordred truly smiled now, and chuckled.

“I like her, Vedma,” he glanced at Baba Yaga. I gave him nothing but a cold look.

“Please, sit,” Baba Yaga waved a hand—and her guest chair appeared.

The bear skin near Mordred’s feet writhed and twisted, and rose off the floor, warping itself into the shape of a tall armchair, with the mighty, toothy head crowning the top. When at last it had stopped its transformation, Mordred stepped around it, swept his skirts out of the way, and sat down with the casual elegance of a cat, his right elbow propped on the armrest.

“Would you have something to drink or eat?” Baba Yaga asked him. He absently flicked his fingers.

“No, thank you, I’ve just eaten.”

Baba Yaga shrugged, and sat back in her own chair.

“What brings you here, Mordred?”

He looked at her for a moment.

“I’m certain you noticed the disturbance at the edge of Winterly Wood not long ago,” he said.

“I did,” Baba Yaga nodded. “But Crow was out in the wood at the time, and saw the birds take flight.”

Mordred glanced at me. The firelight glinted off his silvery eyes.

“What did you perceive?” he asked me.

“I am keeping my thoughts to myself, until I hear what you have to say.” I canted my head. “That’s the reason you’ve come, isn’t it?”

He peered at me, his brow furrowing, then leaned slightly toward me.

“Tell me,” he said, pointing vaguely. “Where did you get such an ugly and unusual scar? It covers the entirety of the left side of your face, all the way down to your neck, and looks like the white craters of the moon.”

I lifted my chin, unmoved.

“I was struck by a hot fire shovel when I was fourteen, by my father,” I said. “I killed him with it.” Then, I narrowed my own eyes to slits. “Where did you get yours?”

He grinned again, laughing softly.

“Child, I am older than you can imagine,” he said, looking over at me with something like warmth. “I honestly cannot remember when I first noticed these marks on my face. But I do know they’ve arisen from my struggles, my pain, my suffering…” He considered me again, his mirth fading, a sadness entering him. “Just as yours have.”

I blinked, and glanced down.

“Tell us, Mordred,” Baba Yaga urged. “What is this all about? I don’t like the feel of it.”

Mordred gazed at her long.

“What do you feel?”

She set her jaw crookedly, and leveled a look back at him. Her voice lowered to a deadly, rasping tone.

“That a curse has been broken.”

Mordred’s mouth tightened, and he gazed down at the hearthstones with a cold consideration.

“It may have been,” he murmured. “I fear that someone has pulled the Sword from the stone.”

Baba Yaga gasped.

The sound made me sit up—set my heart bashing into my ribs.

“The true sword Calesvol? How can that be?” Baba Yaga rasped. “It has been lost for centuries! Ever since you killed Merlin the Wild!”

               Mordred suddenly looked at her without moving his lowered head.

               A chill passed through me.

               “I…did not kill…Merlin,” he said, with painful and precise decision.

               “Whaaat?” Baba Yaga stared at him, her eyes wide and terrible. “Why did you lie to me?”

               “I lied to everyone,” Mordred answered icily. “After Merlin appeared to me and declared that he had laid Calesvol in a stone, and none but the true king of Albain could pull it loose—and that he had hidden it from all eyes but those of this true king—I hunted him more relentlessly than I had ever hunted anyone. But Merlin had vanished. I assumed that he had fled Albain, either across the sea or into the Eisenzahn Mountains. I cast hundreds of spells searching for him throughout Edel, but all came back to me empty. He was gone.” Mordred’s gaze grew distant, and he studied the dance of the flames. “So I made my own sword in the stone, my own Calesvol, and in the presence of ten thousand witnesses, I drew the sword from the stone. And I have been king this past age, questioned by none. And none have passed through my borders alive, either in or out.” He sent a flashing glance to Baba Yaga. “I will not have my throne threatened by some peasant who pulled a trinket from a rock.”

               Baba Yaga watched him for a moment.

               “What would you have us do?”

               Mordred took a deep breath, turning back to the fire.

               “The pulling of the sword has weakened the barriers around Albain. Strong Curse-Breakers will soon be able to cross, and the elves and rangers that have been enchanted in the woods will begin waking up.” He turned to me. “I require your help, Gwiddon Crow.”

               “Why?” I demanded quietly.

               “I wish to take your master with me, back to Camelot,” he said. “And I need you to destroy the Seal of Astrum.”

               “What?” I said, stunned. “Destroy the Seal? A great Seal?” I looked over at Baba Yaga, but she said nothing. I turned back to Mordred. “Why?”

               “To take back Thornbind,” he answered. “Once I put down this usurper who has found Calesvol, I will have the true sword in my hand. With it, I can breach the gap in the mountains and enter the Eorna Valley, which will bring us just steps from Maith. We will finally bring the fight to the doorstep of the Curse-Breakers. But we cannot do so if that Seal blocks our way.”

               I shook my head.

“Destroying a great Seal is impossible, and you know it.”

               “No, it isn’t,” he answered. “Anything made can be un-made.”

               “Yes, by a Curse-Breaker,” I shot back. “The nature of a seal itself is set against us. It was built to withstand just such an attack.”

               “Curse-Breakers are not infallible,” Mordred shook his head. “I have killed many.”

               “Well, be my guest, then,” I growled, waving my hand.

               “Crow,” Baba Yaga warned. I sat up, and leaned toward Mordred.

               “A Seal is not a Curse-Breaker,” I bit out. “You may have killed many Curse-Breakers, but the Seals have killed far more of us,” I said, and slapped my chest.

               “Yes, and many were my friends,” Mordred answered deliberately, looking right at me. “Which is why I spent half my lifetime searching for this.” He lifted his left hand and snapped his fingers.

               A bright light flashed in front of him—

               And a small book lay in his palms.

               I recoiled, sucking in a breath.

               I could feel tendrils of pure, sharp, untamed magic twisting and winding around its beaten leather binding, emanating from the dark red stone in the center of the cover.

               “What is that?” I hissed.

               “It is the Leabhar,” Mordred said quietly. “The Book.”

               “Where did you find it?” Baba Yaga whispered.

               “In Camelot, in Merlin’s vaults beneath the castle.” He glanced wryly at her. “Why do you think I was so eager to conquer Albain? It has nothing else to offer.”

               “I thought the Book was destroyed by dragon fire,” I muttered, still staring at it, feeling like it might leap up and sink teeth into me.

               “So did I,” Mordred nodded. “But, it appears that those on the other side can concoct their own share of clever lies.” He moved his white fingers to lift the cover.

               “Don’t open it!” I yelped, throwing out a hand—stopping just short of grabbing his wrist. He laughed.

               “You mustn’t be afraid, Crow,” he admonished. “You’ll be needing this.” And he held it out to me.

               “I am not touching that,” I said through my teeth, withdrawing from it to sink my fingernails into the armrests of my chair.

               “Why?” he asked simply. “Are you afraid?”

               I glared at him.

               “Only a fool is never afraid.”

               His expression shrugged.

               “True enough,” he acknowledged. “But the power in this book cannot harm you. You can only learn from it.”

               “And what am I supposed to learn?”

               A slow, mysterious smile touched his lips.

               “How the Caldic Curse-Breakers made the Seven Seals of Edel.”

               I narrowed my eyes at him.

               “You have the Book. Why don’t you learn it, and attack the seal yourself? I’m sure you’re powerful enough.”

               “I am,” he nodded. “But I cannot read it.”

               “Ha!” I barked. “You just told me how old you were, how experienced. How can you not read ancient Caldic?”

               “I cannot because it is enspelled, you impatient shrew,” he snapped—and his words knifed straight through my gut. My mouth clapped shut.

For an instant, Mordred’s eyes blazed at me with a fiendish light…

               Which diminished, turning to frost and snow.

               “It will not allow a draid to read its words,” he muttered, flinging open the cover, as he seemed to have done hundreds if not thousands of times. I flinched back…

               But the magic just kept winding round and round the book, penetrating its pages, in a steady, unbroken flow.

               “It rebels against my very blood, the way the light meets my eyes. It’s maddening,” he muttered. “I have tried many, many times to understand, but even if I untangle one phrase, the next moment, it is gone from my mind.” He shook his head. “I saw no pressing need to decipher it at the time I found it. It was enough to have the Book in my possession, and keep it away from the Curse-Breakers, who could do untold damage with it. But now…” he raised his eyebrows at Baba Yaga. “I need a Curse-Maker.”

               “Would you rather leave this task to me?” Baba Yaga asked him. “I am willing, if Crow is not.”

               Mordred was already shaking his head.

               “I need you in Camelot. You must re-lay the curses that are breaking, or replace them with others. The curses of Albain are old, and bone-deep in this realm, and as they snap they may lash back at Camelot itself. And I can already feel Curse-Breakers advancing on my borders. They will need to be waylaid. I cannot keep all of this at bay with only my two hands. This work is as complex as it is dangerous, and I need you at my side.”

               “But is this not equally complex?” I demanded, pointing to the book. Mordred looked at me.

               “No,” he said. “It is quite simple. As simple as untying a knot. You must simply undo what has been done. But first, you must see it clearly.” And he held the book out to me again.

               I didn’t move. Instead, I looked at Baba Yaga.

               “Do you think I ought to do this, Babushka?” I asked her.

               She tilted her head, and shrugged again.

               “I believe you are fully capable of doing it,” she finally said. “You are strong enough, and cunning enough. If you are willing enough.”

               I took the book from Mordred.

               My fingers hit the binding, and the magic hummed—

               But nothing bit me. It didn’t hurt at all.

               I studied it, turning my head to try to make out the runes imprinted on the cover. I set my finger to the opening edge of the cover…

               “Nocht,” I whispered.

               The magic flickered against my thumb. I lifted the cover…

               “Well?” Mordred asked, leaning even closer.

I stared down at the words.

               “I…” I started, then trailed off.

               “What?” he demanded. But I couldn’t speak. I could only read the words, over and over, written in an ancient, inky hand.

                 Greetings, Gwiddon Crow. What is it that you seek?            

  Chapter Three

                “What?” Baba Yaga demanded leaning forward, her chair squeaking.

               “It…” I tried. “It says ‘Greetings, Gwiddon Crow. What is it that you seek?’” I lifted my head, and stared at my teacher.

               Slowly, she grinned at me.

               “Fascinating,” Mordred whispered, watching me with a gleaming eye. “Answer it.”

               “Answer it?” I repeated. “How?”

               He gestured to the book.

               “Answer it. Tell it what you want to know.”

               I stared down at the weathered page and the cryptic writing. I narrowed my eyes at it.

               “I wish to know,” I said slowly. “…how to un-make a great Seal.”

               The writing melted away and disappeared. The next moment, it bled back up through the paper, forming different words.

                 You must first learn how the Seals were made. Do you wish to know?

                         “What is it?” Baba Yaga hissed.

               “It says I must know how they were made, and asks if I wish to know,” I answered.

               “Tell it yes,” Mordred told me—in a tone like he was instructing me to step out onto thin ice.

               “Yes,” I said.

               The words disappeared. Then, they melted back.

                 I will tell you. But I will not tell the other two.

                 My eyes flew to the others. They frowned at me.

               “What now?” Mordred wondered.

               “It says,” I answered carefully “That it won’t tell you or Baba Yaga.”

               Mordred laughed and slapped his thigh.

               “This magic,” he grinned. “Such splendid cleverness.”

               Baba Yaga ground her teeth.

               “Why would it say such a thing?”

               “Perhaps it knows us,” Mordred guessed.

               “Perhaps it can hear us,” Baba Yaga raised her eyebrows at him.

Mordred smiled and shrugged.

               “Perhaps it can. Leastways, this still serves our purpose.” He rose to his feet, his skirts rustling uneasily around his legs. “Vedma, will you come with me back to Camelot?”

               “I will,” she grunted, laboriously rising to her feet. “If food is provided.”

               “I shall have my kitchen prepare the finest meals for you, and you’ll sleep in the quarters designated for the queen, as I have no such partner yet.”

               “Oh, who would marry you?” Baba Yaga jibed.

               “Why, you would, if I asked you,” Mordred grinned at her.

                “You flatter me, draid,” she cackled. “What of Crow?”

               “Crow, you will remain here,” Mordred said, looking down at me. “And you will keep that book with you at all times until I come to retrieve it, or I will kill you where you stand.”

               I glared at him.

               “I’m not a fool,” I shot back. “I would have done that even without your threat.”

               “It isn’t a threat,” Mordred said simply. “It’s a promise.”

               I didn’t answer him. He turned toward the fireplace and straightened his coat.

               “Best get to work,” he advised. “The Seal must be broken by this time next week. Our spells should be in place by then. Keep in touch.”

               I still said nothing. Baba Yaga reached over and patted my head.

               “I have faith in you, vnuchka,” she smiled. “You will make me proud.”

               “Thank you, Babushka,” I said, keeping my eyes strictly away from Mordred.

               “Remember,” Baba Yaga held up a finger. “Do not forget the lineages. We hold them to no esteem—but our foes value them more than life.”

               I frowned, but nodded once.

               “Your hand, my lady,” Mordred said, holding his white palm out toward Baba Yaga.

               “Thank you, sir,” she said, and wrapped her gnarled fingers around his. Mordred glanced down at me, his silvery eyes flashing.

               “Goodbye,” he said.

               And he and Baba Yaga dissolved into black smoke.

               They swirled like a cyclone, writhing and twisting, then wound their way up the chimney, and disappeared.

                   I sat for a long time in the silence, watching the fireplace where they had vanished. Then, I set the book aside, pulled the table back in front of me, and finished my meal before it got cold.

After that, I performed a simple cleaning spell, put my dishes away, made the guest chair sink back onto the floor, came back and prodded the fire. The flames leaped high, and warmth spilled over my boots. I tossed another log in, then snapped my fingers and lit the hanging lamp by my armchair. Sighing, I sat back down, stretched my legs out in front of me, and took up the book again. I opened it to the first page.

               It was blank.

               My brow furrowed.

               “Hello?”

               Hello.

               I cleared my throat.

               “What is your name?”

               My name is Leabhar.I am The Book.

               “Who made you?”

               The Caldic Curse-Breakers.

               “How do you know me?” I wondered.

               I know all beings in this world, alive and dead.

               I bit the inside of my lip.

               “Tell me how the Great Seals were made.”

               Do you wish to know the truth?

               “Yes, of course I do,” I insisted. “Why else would I ask?”

               Very well. The realm of Edel had been swallowed by shadow. This time was called The Curtain. Curse-Breathers had arisen and overwhelmed the servants of light, binding them in curses and spells, ensnaring the borders of the kingdoms, causing wars to erupt amongst brothers. The Source Himself summoned the Curse-Breakers and sent them to stand upon the pulse points of Edel. Then, he journeyed Beneath, and gave his life in sacrifice to the Dragon. But his death fractured the Fountains of the Deep, and his blood mingled with the water. The water surged up through the Mountain of Maith and spilled down across the land. At the same moment, his power, channeled by his Curse-Breakers, pushed up through the earth where each of them stood, and each Curse-Breaker used this force to create a mighty Seal of protection. The breaking of the Fountains broke the Dragon’s curse, and the Source was restored to life. The Curse-Breakers then bound each Seal to the lifeblood of the royal family nearby, and charged each true ruler with the protection of that Seal, a task to be passed down through the bloodline.  

               I heaved a sigh and rolled my eyes.

               “I could have read this in a book of fairy tales,” I muttered. “Be more realistic.”

               What is it that you find doubtful?

               “The Source is dead. Everyone knows that,” I answered, gesturing vaguely. “The water is just latent magic from the days before the Curtain, and it power is fading.”

               The Book went blank.

               I thumped the page with my finger.

               “Be more realistic about the Seals,” I demanded. “And specific.”

               If you do not accept my premise, then what I tell you has no foundation. We have no frame of reference from which to understand each other.

               I released another sigh.

               “All right, I will acknowledge the death and resurrection of the Source as legend,” I said. “Now, tell me.”

               The previous ink bled away. And it returned in one word:

               No.

               “No?” I cried. “Why not?”

               The ink faded.

               And none replaced it.

               I shut the book and threw it on the ground. It bounced away from me across the bearskin rug.

               “That isn’t Leabhar,” I scoffed. “Mordred’s a fool.” I stood up, and kicked the book across the floor as I walked back toward my bedroom. “It’s just a stupid Answer-Back book. I could make another one just like it for him in two hours…”

                    I shut myself in my room and lit the candles and lamps, and glanced around. It wasn’t a large room: it had a single window hung with leather curtains, a narrow bed covered in skins, a woven rag-rug on the wooden floor, and the left and right-hand walls had been built in with bookshelves. Several battered trunks stood in the corner.

               I lit extra lamps beside the bookcases, peering at the spines as I passed the hundreds of packed volumes. I grabbed one book, jerked it out, and tossed it on the floor behind me. I grabbed another, and another, and another. Their covers slapped together as each one landed. Then, I went to the top trunk, flung open the lid, and dug out a piece of parchment, ink, and a pen. Then, I came back to the center of the room, sat down cross-legged, snatched up the first book, opened it and set to work.

                    It took me four days.

               With aching neck and back, I poured over the volumes, checking and checking again. The first volume was The Book of Common Curses; the second: The Foundations of Ancient Magic; the third: The Master’s Curse Book; the fourth: Natural Spells, the fifth: Blood Spells.  

               I carefully made lists on the parchment, drawing out steps one, two, three and so on. I counted ingredients, muttered words. Interchanged some, rejected others. Added more.

               I stopped working when the sun arose, ate, and slept. I performed refresher spells rather than sponging myself off or washing my clothes. I didn’t have time to dally. I gave myself a headache every night, and rejoiced when I could lie down amidst the bearskins and relax the muscles in my neck. But the dusk came all to quickly, and I forced myself to arise, eat again, and hunch over my work once more.

               Soon, I was able to confirm my initial conclusion: that any magic specifically found in the Book of Common Curses  or The Master’s Curse Book would not suffice against a Seal or any guardian, since the seals had been specifically designed to withstand them. In fact, casting one of them could prove deadly to me.

               I also concluded that many blood spells and natural could be executed to act like curses. It was the one weakness, the loophole that the Caldic Curse-Breakers had forgotten. Indeed, Baba Yaga often told me that the Curse-Breakers of this day and age bitterly regretted that their predecessors had not included spells that bore fatal consequences as curses, also.

               These would do nicely for me. And once I had the words aligned, the work would all be in the casting. I wouldn’t even have to set foot in Astrum.

                 I flew with the rolled parchment in my beak, over the jagged roof of the forest, toward the gap in the mountains where the river ran. I carried Mordred’s book in a pouch in my claws. If he wanted it later, fine. He’d find me with it and I would give it to him. I wasn’t about to die over something so silly.

Silvery moonlight poured down over the pines, glistening against the white stones that dotted the foothills. My feathers rustled through the chill air. Fog hung in the wooded paths, shrouding the tiny villages that stood in the narrow clearings. I beat my wings and picked up my speed, arching higher and higher, swooping beneath the low clouds.

               At last, I spotted the low, jagged foothill of Mount Stell, the craggy peak that wreathed Astrum in its arms. This foothill rose up to half the mountain’s height, and overlooked a small valley, on the other side of which, at a great height, stood the castle.

               I plunged down, cutting through the frosty wind, swooped between the trees, flung out my wings…

               Transformed back to a human with a furious rush, and my booted feet struck the frost-covered stone of the Maven Overlook. The pouch with Mordred’s book tumbled to a stop next to me.

               Silence fell all around me. I took the parchment from my mouth and drew in a deep breath, then let it out. It clouded around my head in vapor. I cast a look around. Behind me stood the ruins of the Maven Watchtower, used long ago in the War of the Gemstones. Now it lay dead, its stones asunder and covered over in brown ivy and moss, the bones of its slain watchmen picked clean by the birds.

               Unmoved, I turned my gaze away from it, and down into the valley before me.

               Far, far across, clouded by mist, the face of Mount Solem arose like a great wall. In the depths of the valley, between Solem and Stell, like a great crack in the earth, wove the Sopor River, its edges frozen, trees crowding its banks. I traced the upward slant of the foothills of Stell with my sharp gaze, watching the ripples in the forest and the protrusions of the stones, until I found the Castle Astrum.

               There it stood, as if it had grown from the living stone of the mountain. Dozens of piercing towers, like arrows poised to launch to the heavens, their caps blue as sapphire, their stone white as snow. Balconies and arched corridors adorned its walls like lace, colored windows decorated it like jewelry. But all those windows lay dark, for none inside were awake, save the watchman—and I could glimpse his single torch from one of the tower tops, winking like the faraway eye of an owl.

               I smiled to myself.

               He would be the first to be surprised, then.

               I unrolled the parchment, glancing across my careful writing by the light of the moon. As I did, a snowflake landed upon my glove. I glanced up. The sky was clear, but the low-hanging mist had begun to crystalize, filling the air with a deep and intimate silence.

Read this book: https://www.amazon.com/Curse-Maker-Tale-Gwiddon-Crow-Curse-Breaker-ebook/dp/B07N7V3K4T/ref=pd_sbs_351_5/146-6363556-3395043?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B07N7V3K4T&pd_rd_r=51133e1c-5438-4cae-bec3-a817e25bb633&pd_rd_w=kiB1I&pd_rd_wg=f02WA&pf_rd_p=52b7592c-2dc9-4ac6-84d4-4bda6360045e&pf_rd_r=V09XKRH01FN9CDDVNS72&psc=1&refRID=V09XKRH01FN9CDDVNS72