#the crows bitter woes

[thebittercorvus]

if i could torn myself into one million pieces, i would.

i'm stretching myself thin, slowly, disappearing. there aren't enough hours in the day. not enough days in the week.

i wake up

exhausted

and no amount of sleep can fix it

wondering. pondering. will it ever be enough.

the alarm sounds once again.

if i could put my soul for rent just to get by, i would've done so a million years ago.

[sapphiel]

Whenever he can, whether he was spared a night from the cold, dark dungeons or the skies were clear enough, a young broken man, one Mortimer, would gaze upon the stars… knowing someone out there would listen to his woes when no one else would.

Transcript: [distant crows cawwing] Some nights, I wish that this all would end… because I could use some friends for a change. … I can't remember the last time I've had a proper meal… I can't even remember the last time I've slept on a warm soft bed. I don't even know if my parents still love me. The people, they… they trusted me… they trusted me. They called me a prince… n-now they call me a traitor… I-I don't even know what I did to them… I… I just want to go back… … Mom? … … …Dad? I… want… … …I don't even know what I want anymore… [pitiful sobbing is carried out by the cold bitter winds of night]

Voiced by CosmicPanda.

[erenspussy420]

Oh well like for crewel and Crowley (seperately )x Latina reader

Rivals to lovers

Soulmate au

Fluff plz

Sorry this took too long to finish but hopefully you like it!

1.8K words

Fem Reader

SFW (However my blog isn't so you have been warned.)

......

......

Soulmates, a rather direct term for something so vital in the lives of Twisted Wonderland. There is a reason for the plural, instead of the singular term. For one does not have one soulmate but rather two, so to speak, a rival or an enemy many say in your life. And the other as many would garner the true soulmate, the true love.

A touching sentiment, knowing somewhere out there is the other part of you waiting to reunite in the vast sea of life. Those who will understand the depth of who you are and you in turn peek into their heart of hearts. Even the most bitter of men and women, crave that companionship.

At least it would be should you actually know which side is which. The citizens of the world tried to figure it out, taking guesses but to the dismay of many it seems that it is not as direct at times. It made a rather interesting story about how one meets their true soulmate, and their hated sworn enemy.

In some cases, they were the same person!

Some lament at such the idea of having their arms confuse them, some don’t mind and seem to relish having an enemy, some finding the way to find true love a challenge, but all agree they rather have both names than none—-

Unlike these poor souls whose arms will stay bare.

.

.

Dire Crowley: 

‘It doesn’t bother him, not one bit!’ He proclaims, as he tugs over his sleeves. A big fat fucking lieeeee. Anyone can see or rather pityingly watch the rather pathetic display when it's the annual staff parties, and Crowley drinking himself into the bottle.

Woe is poor Dire! Arms care to the world, no name on either one. Not even a smidge! He always keeps his arms covered in long sleeves, as he could anyway. Summer’s are a challenge for him, he tends to overheat quite easily regardless of his ice magic. He looks longingly at those bright hideous Pleasure Island shirts.

When he’s alone, he rolls up his sleeves and looks at them forlorn. He is a fae raven, and for so many years it's been lonely. It's not uncommon that sometimes a fae and a human or beastman will be soulmates, usually they appear as they are born, but Crowley has yet to see any ink paint his smooth skin after a decade of waiting…and waiting….

He has been practicing making a nest, so leave the man alone when he steals your shit.

Until one day, the day he yearns for came true. It was during the opening ceremony, did he feel a hot sensation climb up his arm. It was so strong, he practically kneeled over, grabbing onto it as it glowed bright like copper, and once it died, it left a singular name in cursive letters. He couldn’t believe it! You were here! You were finally here! 

Crowley is laughing, crowing up a storm that the housewardens and newcomers felt wary and a bit scared as Crowley hugs his students, twirling them around. He would kiss their cheeks if it wasn’t for the fact that can be counted as harassment and most of these ruffians have claws.

Happy day! Happy day! He had noticed it's the same name for both sides. Oh dear, but it didn’t matter because as of this day, he wasn’t alone! ….Oh…Oh dear, there was quite the commotion, quite the ruckus! Nothing can damper his mood! Not even a cat setting everything on fire and a magicless human!

Then he catches your name, and oh dear….the headmaster had frozen stiff…until your gaze is now covered in feathers and a man sobbing into your arms crying "how beautiful you are!" And "thank the Sevens! I waited for so long! So long to bask in your gaze!”---while you’re yelling in spanish about the crazy bird man, smacking him with his own shoe.

Truly a beautiful sight you have finally arrived! So much so that Trein had to take over since Crowley hasn’t stopped trying to preen your hair and crying into hair.

Once he finally gets himself in control, does his actual duties as a headmaster and deal with the fact you are not of Twisted Wonderland and from another world completely. He’s totally working on a way home— just let him get to know you as he does.

He catches himself staring too long at you. He can’t help it, he’s waited for you for so long! Every curve, every angle of your face makes his breath hitch. You have a bold look to you, confident and with a loud laugh that adds more to your charm.

Oh when he pisses you off, he can tell the second the house is filled with the scent of roasted dried chilies. Cue Crowley wheezing.

He does try to learn the Spanish you speak, wanting to learn more about you and the culture you hail from. Its rather sweet, even if you were teaching him swear words at first.

You have a big sense of community, his soulmate is so generous! Which does make him pout as he watches you, mother hen some of his troublemakers by putting the fear of God into them. 

Though he does like how you bring him into a dance in the kitchens, teaching him the simple steps of dances that have him being twirled around in your arms.

Adding into the second role of being a soulmate, you have pushed Crowley into being more active with his students, something most of his staff has thanked you for. As you were working on your master’s before being run down by the horses in the middle of Los Angeles. 

Even working harder than before, Crowley is utterly in love with his soulmate.

Crewel Divus:

“Hm? I see your eyes seem to find my arms rather fascinating, little pup?” The corner’s of his lips quirk in amusement, but the sharpness of his gray blue eyes made his students squeak. It was one of those rare times, Divus had his sleeves rolled over his arms, letting his unruly pups finally take a gander at who their professor soul mate could be. Most, however, made bets if Crowley was his enemy.

But it was bare and pale, the gawking student had found their mouth shut by the aid of a familiar whip pushing up their chin. “Hm, since you seem so fond of being idle, I can keep you busy,” a loud thwap of his whip smacking his gloved hand,” Detention, cauldron duty.”

As a young youth he was rebellious and scrappy in all the ways that come with being a teenager. Always in fashion regardless of how he looks, however it is noted his arms are bare to the world and Divus doesn't care what the world thinks of his unfortunate status.

Frankly, Divus pushes on the importance of it, he hates what it brings on him with expecting eyes and unlike Crowley who hides it— Divus will make you see he doesn't care about what the world thinks. As far as he is concerned, Crewel is standing here with or without a soulmate to his name. With or without you, Divus Crewel is not to be pitied.

Though, it cannot be said he hasn’t beaten a loud mouth punk twice or thrice when entering NRC.

Growing up however, after getting through his angst and anger, Divus accepts it. Maybe he traces over where the name of the person who can push him to capabilities, caresses the bare arm that was supposed to be his soul companion ... .and it takes his dogs covering him to bring him out of that stupor. 

He’s obsessive in a way that isn’t easily noticeable, something that reflects in his own outfits, his black and white outfits having a missing half in cufflinks, buttons, or belts. There is a way he walks, still poise and confident that seems to make space for someone who is supposed to be there. One has made the mistake of taking the second glass he has set aside—purposefully or not.

The day you finally had come into his life with a bang, literally as he can describe the sudden burning sensation in his arms that evening, Crewel had finally set up his room. The burst of such power had him kneel over, gripping the sides of his vanity so harshly he broke a chunk of it in his bare hands. It was as if something was being carved into him, not his skin he didn’t notice that but his own soul has been molded.  In a hurry, he rips up his sleeve, his cufflinks flying to the corners of his room but that didn’t matter.

His soulmate is here.

Oh when he first meets you, he takes you in. All of you, from the shade of your hair, to the curve of your eyes, the features of what makes you–you. Each note, his mind is already building up the things he can create for you.

You are nothing he expected but that is what thrills him. 

What his eyes picked up was your clothes. Well made, and tailored, stylish with personal flares. A fellow fashionista!

The second he brings you to his workshop, he knows—he knows now that all those cliche romance novels he reads when he’s fully alone means it clicks. 

He loves the embroidery of your culture that is prevalent in every outfit you make. Bright colors of – pinks, greens, yellows and reds. Everything you make has this brightness to it, eye-catching and so utterly full of pride.

There is a way you speak that is also so different from the Spanish variant he is used to, its more playful, relaxed and a bit cocky.

He’s careful in making sure you settle in Twisted Wonderland, while trying so hard not to prod you for too many questions. Though he does admit, he lingers nearby when he hears you sing in Spanish, the grin you have as you sing something he knows is pretty dirty as it seems the Shaftlands share the latin roots as you call it with French in your world. So don’t think he doesn’t know when you're cursing under your breath!

But he does admire the arsenal of insults you seem to throw on the fly when angered. He saved a video of you perfectly tearing off your sandals to throw it at Crowley for ditching his duties on you both. Three seconds is impressive.

Your fashion taste and his tend to clash, but he loves the way you make your canvas come alive during fashion shows he got you to join in. But the second you and him collaborate on a fashion line together, he sees that drive in you that makes him want to chase.

[isleofgont]

"Three Poems to Palestine" from A Lover From Palestine and Other Poems: An Anthology of Palestinian Poetry, where the poem's author is uncredited

[Image description: The first image is the first page of a scan of a poem. The poem reads:

Three Poems to Palestine

I

They spread the glad tidings

When they were with Him and The Last Supper

And before He walked

Dragging His cross on a path of thorns and stones

They surrounded Him like a halo.

Swearing to their Belief, their Faith,

They gave Him their vows,

But their eyes became heavy and they slept,

And they left Him.

Alone, with heavy heart,

He drank a cup from which He had abstained.

His blood then felt the chill of Death,

And Sorrow's bitter taste burned His mouth.

Before the dawn

One betrayed Him,

One denied Him,

And the others ran away.

II

On my shoulders I carry Abel. How heavy he is!

Though they killed him, I must carry him,

Walking the streets with his corpse,

Lamenting, "Abel is dead!"

Abel: My sorry and black fate!

I did not take your life; I did not stone you.

I did not do as a bird would to his dead brother.

For years I have wandered in the wilderness

With you upon my shoulders like a curse.

Your crumbling corpse coils like a serpent.

Years have passed since your death;

Your corpse decayed, your blood dried, /.End description]

[Image description: The second image shows the second page of the poem. It reads:

Your flesh fell away, Abel.

But woe to me should I try to escape

Or rebel against my fate and dig a grave

To bury you.

Your fouled corpse cleaves to me,

Plunges its nails into my neck,

Rumbling its reproach:

"Do you try to cast me off and flee?

Who have I but you?

The shoulders of others cannot, dare not,

Carry me, even a few steps."

III

Job fulfilled his promises

And fulfilled his doom:

The worms fed on his hands and

Drank his eyes

His corpse was thrown to the crows on the shore

And to the gangs of birds.

Virtuous Job.

Never rebel; never despair; never be angry.

Worms have worn out your flesh and plunged like nails in your

bones.

And in your womb the embryo of patience grows old. /.End description]

[libidomechanica]

“Do not girlish”

A kimo sequence

               1

Thus thou wait thy mother, to thy ‘Will’ more. “Oh Shah, who taught the ashes. Smelling flowers are twins.

               2

Do not girlish but ne’er love the shepheard you be kindle into motley halves; pensive Sara!

               3

To rob a living Childsworth Farm, past the horse the twist; and still to your name. But a sigh so sore?

               4

Yea, if they to the ground. The true speed of light there, if, listened. And cause I caught him, and lilies.

               5

And doth endite, and wonders and behind our sheep them if not I withered homely wife; for woe.

               6

Spent, my silken net and griefe. Queen of camphire, which Enna yields. The invited to this defence.

               7

Deere, Cupid offend. Queen Virtues the tracks. Ready to the must, let’s prove but forst by Nature born.

               8

Glasses a good does rifely blest, o why that ever done force, they repair: that she even.

               9

—So have a footprint of the rest. Love; behold, I grant mine eyes from wealth it is fresh, and evening.

               10

Yield all ouercast. Provide and heard you been kind! Through the Fruit of these alone. Breaking his she said!

               11

Force accomplished his own despised. Thy lips of sweet in springs from those ranckling doe companions?

               12

And tell what I dreams, ready spent, tell them. Up like meteors and flutters, and the window-pane.

               13

To take ourselves to me should learn to die. I would example to the Tree! Runs it need no light.

               14

And she seede, their first foe in this subject lends not on your hidden pride, and you know dark woods in?

               15

And she stainless steel the work boots. The Curse of Better luck and the marks the skies. And to be mowne.

               16

When April, and nature keepe. The gray hair beneath the field, thought me fly, and so they claim his know?

               17

At this upland disappear, and a few friend. Many waters carried Venus gloue, brake bowe, brave.

               18

Till that every man haunt beloved is why I’m telling breast. At fifty should be contemned.

               19

Hair sprent with scars, still cut straight so foul. His cheek where entertain roe, with whom we castling, lovely.

               20

He on the care the poor tearm of the gods, whose crowned him, but which love I would I meet? Of Bether.

               21

Dost thou hast brought uncalled the goatherd gods, that goeth down the world, to like, and thro’ the girl, her hair.

               22

And I thy long, and flow. If this of your wise hands, now I will I not go gentlemen, and griefe.

               23

And cried: and deep to clear spring of the work of Nature feare. Mind spills the river, without rest.

               24

Whilst through Time’s stops under his own selfe to Sorrow! If thou wage mute! The valleys; meseems I fly.

               25

Can it become extinguish, him to die. When in this, And where to such an ill resign my life!

               26

Then tell that satisfied. In the peril keep my woes, there should fold of timely face deepening strange.

               27

With free from you, and gave me to the moon. Sweet joy befall the crier cite this mask of my locks.

               28

Soules are holding to fix it, of men who groan, while ourselves to feed in a flock to be crowes!

               29

To teach and I force to eat. I ask’d them doe loue, ioue on his own sad name in out of her drop?

               30

He went down to myself t’ excuse: sweet- William with lilies. There wit become as a bitter.

               31

And now, and my bowre, then of her smile his right! Finer politic senses all my nature love!

               32

A time when the smell, and her well as White, deepening valleys. You smile it wasn’t making no defence.

               33

We’ll sculpture the bird into the plain true it in any way toward Damascus. Probes to stir Lo!

               34

Both the cages forget: the unpermitted, who laugh o’er those huge despair. Not the Knot; and Queens.

               35

Sweet-William with thee to the good ointments on the lilies faire, is built of bliss, and fro, and worse.

               36

Than we see Lo! Yearning her beloved, O thou mighty titles tied, but before wilt renew’d.

               37

Rose-cheek’d Laura, come, to chaste breast. The water’s brink she loved name no more desire to prevail.

               38

With some coquettish descends: and subtle soul contraction! Turns out the spreads and they did admit.

               39

His cheek. Gored mind? Of my hair from me. They ne’er thy pipe is like my love, the ragged you for all?

               40

And subtle soule to his please. I used to see thy mouth with whom, how he crushed from thence, shall spices.

               41

Yet were rude, mean a race,—because me of it. My five sense did fall, doest watch—if I be at rest.

               42

The first louing strength seem stronger. Those loue, ioue on his knowledge the fair. Till inclosed eyes the stage.

               43

Take us the city, ever did the merchant? Must makes of heauen to keepers of frankincense.

               44

He thud of all? Thy beloved, and sport, and I own, and foul affliction’s valleys, she knew not.

               45

As one the smile and mars they sound-like purple orchis variegate throne, nor give the time yet crown’d.

               46

My friend; nor hast the sun, resort to cheerefull Colinet. Than going to go, nor long locks.

               47

Old and sank, somersetshire my pensive Sara! From her smiles takest thou hast all these alone.

               48

I would not bondage is, but those lecture makes me not to help Thou could not bad, but twenty-five?

               49

Has seized her two suns from Praise. Thou could never more. Save when you again are he; they did admit.

               50

Some scene designed, the voice of right and gracing. For the day grow mad with discover the power.

               51

The high heavy heart that at then me! And real the dimness of herbs, both Silk, and cast hem out touch.

               52

Who make it stood that lived in love a little oak-room which royal malady should Arthur do?

               53

Yet hold me nourished now cleaved Myrtle, meet emblems they were. Tinkle homes of a greater thighs?

               54

I would choose: would, like Pygmalion, found, so liefe: let me known, and sin! Peace, thoughts chase, brought: then one year.

               55

By night. While below on the patient angel waiting thorow all it found, then smile did not, love.

               56

River And I will never such powers; or man would a manger with beauteous mone. But day come.

               57

Tyrant passed, and I looked back. Is much better seed conjoined lets in the upland distant refrain.

               58

To leaue ye shephearde, Wrenock was he said, Princess. And bade him to The Sharp-witted ferry’s flown!

               59

Canvases, and durst in default of a pomegranates of the floor with wailing before.

               60

Both tormenting with scoure. Yield and unawakening, lovely dost him in the tedious talk.

               61

And, old, which my love, disgrace. I’ll search of your life, and song of Empire, never and wounded.

               62

But two days old, she needs with the year heart so sore, have beat this Cot, our Cot, and loued sheep, his hive.

               63

—The grave. The volleying rather he giue but them please the fair one, or some scent that I had love thee.

               64

Cometh leaping upon the Woodes that mighty title sparkle and twirls. His honour in mine.

               65

So many a strong; their loosen’d manes, and nothing. As I’ll which be wont tenrage throne, nor are made.

               66

On the Frick which, like name I am my beloved! As for Years into my tale. So have reare.

               67

As the light empty, pure green bank hath made that fill within thy sweet voice o’ Pity here? Your mind.

               68

Selves to make me Christ! Together thence at once against the fine sand tincture light on a heart leaps!

               69

Her than the dusk hill-side. They turn up like some goes a long flat of wo painted scraps of the moon.

               70

Each Knee doth new smell of frankincense. A godly ocean of stone shall subiect thing will report.

               71

A shudder’d up and dim. As you have him with pride is cap and by the fallow builded for me!

               72

The window and our strive, our tree bright betwixt my blood is but a smoother lip? Thus long the race.

               73

My haruest wast bound, all shall I be at rest. I shall adore in a mansion have companions?

               74

And, as whom wash’d from women? That thou doest watching Wisdom be shines, but seized, and set you a place.

               75

To set a form them, but forsaken and sware designed, the congruity thee. To make me Christ!

               76

Putting phantasies, transfer a weak, a softer mother, when we meet. Who, if not I: pitie there!

               77

On vain the single with me; the tall, dried grassy barrows know?—What other things, and inspired.

               78

His cheek growne slacker in the husbands fade the same. Nor tresspass’d I blind; nor all well satisfied.

               79

When become extinguish, him from the sky yet reserving&never rais’d nor rewarded. From thee.

[warriorskaldkorica]

There was once a dragon, mighty and pale, Who wished to rule o’er the Vale, With fire and claw, he planned his coup, And set out to make his dream come true. But before such tyranny he could instate, Two companies would seal the dragon’s fate, One, the Radiant Omen, so proud and bright, The other, Corpus Corvus, clothed in darkest night. The Radiant Omen, all bold and strong, Sought out the five crows, to set right a wrong. Caltherien the watcher, noble paladin, On a solemn quest to avenge his fallen kin, Next came Urjn, wise in divination, The blood rites he performed, an ancient incantation. Then came Diemthys, with artifice rare, A dragonborn bronze, with inventions to spare, Last was bold Thraund, whose music made hearts thrum, Magic and lightning sprung forth from her drum. Corpus Corvus, five heroes brave and true, Learned the dragon’s plot, knew what they must do. Po the druid, sworn to the Raven Queen, Would soon show her power, never before seen, Nevermore, the kenku, Po's tutor and friend, With his trusty ring, his tricks would never end. Forget not Damae, a monk of strangest kind, With polearm in hand and ever steadfast mind, Cameron, the bard, whose spells once killed in vain, And Scriz the kobold, who found courage's flame. In old Dragonspear the heroes did meet, The paladin’s blade ready, an oath to complete, Cameron was shocked, her heart filled with pain, The blood of a brother, her undeniable shame. The tension was thick, the air electric, The silence tense, fraught with conflict, Caltherien, tears streaming, broke the quiet, "My brother is dead, and I know who did it." Cameron, eyes downcast, hung her head low, The weight of guilt, heavy as a stone, "I do not deny, I was the cause of his end, Intentions irrelevant, t’was my fault, my friend." The bard of Corvus continued to speak, She pleaded for peace and did not critique, “I know my magic did slayer your brother, But this dragon’s wrath will spare no other.” Caltherien, for the Omen, replied in turn, Moved by regret, the knight did not spurn, “To save our people, I will swallow my hate, Against the wyrm we’ll unite, to seal its fate.” With understanding that time was of the essence, The put aside their bitter feud without any pretense, So together they went, swords and shields in hand, To face the dragon, a foe neither could withstand. With all of them united, they headed to the north, To the dragon's lair, they bravely ventured forth, Urjn divined their fate with oracular blood magic, Weal and woe awaited, victorious and tragic. A man cloaked in red, then caught their sight, He spoke words of warning, full and malice and spite, Then he did transform, into a great white beast, Alabaraxes was he, the Pale Prince, unleashed. His scales gleaming white, his eyes burning red, Wicked fangs and talons, a monument of dread, And there upon his chest, lending power to his spells, A mantle wrought from gold, death it foretells. Then from the dragon’s maw came not an icy breath, Instead a wrathful flame, an inferno of death, The dragon's fearsome flames were terrible and bright, But such valiant heroes were uncowed by this plight. Caltherien struck first, with keen sword in hand, With Urjn's blood magic, the future he did command, Diemthys' inventions blasted with great might, Thraund's drum of lightning did cast a shocking sight. Cameron loosed arrows from her enchanted bow, Damae attacked swiftly from shadows to and fro, Po and Nevermore, the student and the teacher, Each cast their spells in turn, against the vile creature. Yet the wyrm was too strong, too fierce to defeat, His scales impenetrable, his breath a deadly heat, But Po hatched a plan, a wild, daring gamble, She assumed a beastly form, and grabbed the golden mantle. With unbridled strength, she pulled the relic free, And the white wyrm seethed, his rage plain to see, With renewed hope the heroes bravely fought on, But the Pale Prince roared he would not be undone. In a flash of burning ash he tore across the room, Try as she might to run, Po had sealed her own doom, The Pale Prince let out a roar loud as thunder, And with tooth and claw, he rent the druid asunder. Alabarxes laughed and turned to find new prey, Caltherien stood his ground, the beast would die this day, Both paladin and dragon clashed in mighty strife, As Thraund used her magic, to restore the druid’s life. With courage seldom seen, the heroes gave their all, But beneath the dragon’s wrath, some began to fall, Caltherien Entaloir, whose sword had shone so bright, Now lay broken and burned, his strength a fading light. Bold Damae and Urjn, both dauntless to the end, In service to the realm, their lives they did expend, Though the dragon was hurt, ever on it fought, The heroes were dwindling, the wyrm would give them naught. Then acted Scriz, the cowardly kobold small, He charged at the dragon, knowing he might fall, Stick in his hand, he hit the beast in its face, The ploy was successful, the wyrm did give chase. With a weapon of his own making, Diemthys attacked, Gouts of arcane power, it boomed and it cracked, Too focused on his aim, a danger he missed, As it swiped with its tail, he met the abyss. Thraund faced the dragon with a song in her heart, But the beast’s mighty claws tore her apart, Those that remained, their hearts drowned in gloom, It seemed the dragon’s lair would forever be their tomb. Then Nevermore, so clever, held out the ring he wore, And in a hushed voice, he spoke the name Lenore, He wove the ring’s magic into a grand illusion, And Po seized the chance, to end the wyrm’s delusion. With a plea to her goddess, she borrowed strength from the slain, And cast a mighty spell, that would be the dragon’s bane, Her spell struck true, the Pale Prince was defeated, A scaled would-be tyrant, decisively unseated. Though the dragon was dead the cost in lives was high, But they had saved Delimbyr Vale from the wyrm's dark eye, A memorial to those lost, now stands in the town, A celebration of their victory, their courage, renowned. I decided to play around with ChatGPT, feeding it the details of a campaign I ran and asking it to compose a poem based on it. I liked the results and kept working on it, end up composing a good portion of it myself, and this is the result.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Even when asked to address nonviolence in the context of labor disputes, marital woes, and other issues, Bayard Rustin reported, and even when specifically instructed not to address the war, audiences inevitably asked him “to present our views on the world struggle in light of the principles I had outlined.” But in addition to talking of peace, he spoke passionately about discrimination—and in the view of biographer Jervis Anderson, “came to be recognized as probably the most militant civil rights advocate in the United States.” Topics included “Racial Exploitation in America” and “Can Nonviolent Non-Cooperation Win Freedom for the American Negro?” Especially incendiary was his tendency to note the ways in which our own country and its allies, while condemning our enemies, were themselves guilty of some of the same moral failings. The Dayton, Ohio, Journal, reporting on a speech Rustin delivered at a local Baptist church in 1943, gives some sense of how provocative his message could be in a time of war:

While he emphasized that he was not in sympathy with Germany, the speaker said Hitler has been more honest than President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill. For instance, he explained that Hitler does not pretend friendship with the Jews on the one hand and punish them on the other…He said that Churchill does not intend to bring racial equality, but rather intends to retain the status quo. He stated that much is said about equality in this country, yet the government, even in the armed forces, is one of the worst offenders.

Rustin was certainly aware of the ambivalence toward the war in black America, where segregation in the military and persistent discrimination on the home front had bred profound resentment. “Many Negroes have little faith in the present struggle,” he reported in a FOR [Fellowship of Reconciliation] memo dated September 8, 1942.

I have heard many say they might as well die right here fighting for their rights as to die abroad for other people’s. It is common to hear outright joy expressed at a Japanese military victory. For thousands of Negroes look upon successes of any colored people anywhere as their successes.

David Dellinger, in his memoir, reports being taken with Benedict and Dallas to an all-black jazz club where the three of them were celebrated by patrons for having refused to fight. “The general bitterness,” Myrdal reported, “is reflected in the stories that are circulating in the Negro communities: A young Negro, about to be inducted into the army, said, ‘Just carve on my tombstone, Here lies a black man killed fighting a yellow man for the protection of a white man.’ ”

Around the same time as An American Dilemma was published (the spring of 1944), the army weekly Yank published an anguished letter from Rupert Trimmingham, a black corporal who discovered that the country he was fighting for could treat its enemies better than its own soldiers.

Here is a question that each Negro soldier is asking. What is the Negro soldier fighting for? On whose team are we playing? Myself and eight other soldiers were on our way from Camp Claiborne, La., to the hospital here at Fort Huachuca. We had to lay over until the next day for our train. On the next day we could not purchase a cup of coffee at any of the lunchrooms around there. As you know, Old Man Jim Crow rules. The only place where we could be served was at the lunchroom at the railroad station but of course we had to go into the kitchen. But that’s not all; 11:30 A.M. about two dozen German prisoners of war, with two American guards, came to the station. They entered the lunchroom, sat at the tables, had their meals served, talked, smoked, in fact had quite a swell time. I stood on the outside looking on. And I could not help but ask myself these questions. Are these men sworn enemies at this country? Are they not taught to hate and destroy…all democratic governments? Are we not American soldiers sworn to fight for and die if need be for this our country? Then why are they treated better than we are?

Americans knew this was wrong. Yank was inundated with mail from G.I.s, “almost all of whom were outraged by the treatment given the corporal,” the editors wrote. The original Trimmingham letter even became the basis of a short story in The New Yorker. In a subsequent letter published on July 28, Trimmingham reported that he was heartened to receive 287 letters in response to his own, including 183 from whites in the armed forces, most from the Deep South. “It give me new hope to realize that there are doubtless thousands of whites who are willing to fight this Frankenstein that so many white people are keeping alive,” Trimmingham wrote. He was one of 1.2 million blacks who served in the armed forces during the war in spite of their second-class status.

While blacks were concerned first and foremost with discrimination at home, there was also rising consciousness of race and imperialism elsewhere. Rustin’s memo goes on to say that

No situation in America has created so much interest among Negroes as the Gandhian proposals for India’s freedom. In the face of this tension and conflict, our responsibility is to put the technique of nonviolent direct action into the hands of the black masses.

- Daniel Akst, War By Other Means: How the Pacifists of World War 2 Changed American for Good. New York: Melville House, 2022. p. 183-185.

[majestativa]

From womb to tomb, we live our story. The past is prologue, a postscript. We spread the deck of fortune before us, Read the whispers between the cards. This convicts, this one acquits, This one lifts the spirit, This one destroys the soul. Though beset on all sides By a multitude of trouble and woe, We cast our dice early and reap the sowing, The bitter and the sweet. Whether we make our stand Or fold our hands, The winds of change blow either way.

— Sebastian Crow, Gothique du Grotesque: New and Selected Poems, (2015)

[eridias]

@seraphicis prophesized:  ❛  we  can  all  be  saved.  ❜

WOE BE TO THE DISBELIEVER, mhin already had their fill of broken fairytales and deceptive promises. this dog eat dog world had no time for the naive and imperceptible, hope was liquid courage for the desperate, anything more creeped into sheer delusion, and they'd long since ran that well dry ─── the cold stain of viscera like glowing rubies coating the underside of the cutting steel they were in the process of wiping down was evidence of that unyielding truth.

THEY REMAIN SILENT following the doctor's soft proclamation, naught but the twitch of their brow, furrowed and creased, would give any indication that they were listening. they were much too the ' blink or miss it ' type, vultures would oft play the same game when they swooped in for the prey, a bitter pill mhin swallowed in the wake of crow caws that followed their every waking moment; mocking laughter, what are you, man or beast ?

SUFFOCATION SEEPS INTO SILENCE in their conversational lul, they don't have to look up to know kuras regarded their quiet brooding with a curiosity neither of them would acknowledge ─── it was something they admired about him, one of many things ... humiliating as it was for them to admit in the bridge 'tween their thoughts where violence stilled. when slender hands give pause to tilt gilded blade unto light, hands stained a red in spite of their efforts still, is where they shift their attention; where silvers softened, their voice remained ever weary.

❝   some, not all. there are too many dipshits not worth the energy,   ❞ a scowl mars fair features easy, as though the softness were never there.

❝   you'll run yourself ragged trying to save everyone. you already are. the damned don't seek retribution; no one is that lucky, and they know it.   ❞

WORDS SHARPEN LIKE ICE, melancholia staining them cold. were they worthy of being saved ? ( they'd long since signed their soul away, but oh, what it would be, freed from anguish wrought 'pon them / free from guilt, from all their secrets and that cawing, always that fucking cawing ) ─── yet quick were they to shift attention, to level kuras with an unimpressed eyebrow, enervation settling deep. personal as it all was, had become much to their chagrin, they couldn't help but allow concern to slip just once; to drift 'tween the tender edge of harsh truth and the fringes of care.

❝   besides, what good is a doctor that can't save himself ? unlike leander, you actually give a shit.  ❞

[tuesday-teyz]

Dear author, Dear author! I have an hyperfixation rant i want to say so be warn.

Hear ye! Hear ye! I have three names for the Butterfly Reign Au's you and the other askers have made here on Tumblr. Here it is..

Crown Prince Theseus Becoming an Emperor after the death of Emperor Phil - The Corrupted Throne.

Prince Theseus dying on an attempt Assassination on Emperor Philza - Crows woe.

Emperor Wilbur and Crown Prince spoiling Prince Theseus - The Candy tastes bitter.

What do you think Dear author?

I like those names very much! Now somebody needs to force me to collect all my BR sub-au's in one post...

[jadedpen]

Welcomed with open arms

Sibling!Half phantom!GN!Reader x Sbi family (+ Tubbo)

Summary: You are stuck in the cold snow as a small toddler in a basket. As the snowstorm roared, Phantoms circle around you, letting out wails of woe and sorrow. Suddenly, you hear the flapping of big feathery wings and see the Phantoms fly away. You then see a mysterious man with a white and green striped hat and welcoming blue eyes.

For context: Wilbur and Techno are twins, the reader is the youngest of the family with Tubbo being 1 year older than Tommy. The twins are 11 years old, Tommy is 4 and Tubbo is 5.

TW: There is a small part in the beginning where the reader almost dies from hypothermia, so be mindful of that, please!

Also, don’t worry, this work will have multiple chapters, so stay tuned!

Sorry if this is kinda bad. This is my first time writing a reader fanfic.

Ao3 link here

___________________________________________________________________________________________

The bitter cold touched your skin as your breath came out slow and steady. Your fingertips glowed blue and your thin wings weren’t much help to warm you up. The basket you were placed in by your unknown parents barely kept you alive all these hours, the thin blanket wrapped around you.

Phantoms circled you, seeing you as one of their own. You could sense the distraught and worry in their cries and their wails. As they swooped down, they tried to pick up the basket that carried you, but to no avail. Your tiny toddler hands tried to reach out to them, wanting nothing more but to be carried somewhere where you won’t freeze in the storm. You let out small wails and cries, those very much akin to a Phantom, until you heard a caw.

One caw became ten, and suddenly there was a whole murder of them, so many that the amount started to block the storm. Some even tried to attack the phantoms, but they wouldn’t leave you alone. They’d rather die than let the crows have their way with you.

But, there came a large beating of wings. Ones way more than the huge murder swirling around you. As the beating wings died down, you could hear the thumps of footsteps coming towards you, and feel something or someone pick you up. The hands were the warmest thing you’ve ever felt, and your eyes met the mysterious person’s bright welcoming blue. The eyes could convey so much; uneasiness, pity, curiosity.

They wore a large hat, one that was green and white striped. Medium blond hair came out of the sides with a small braid in the front and little knickknacks hanging from the strange hat. Huge black wings stood behind them, making them seem larger than the storm from your view. Even though your vision was impaired from the cold, you could see a small bit of what they was wearing aside from their head; a green opened kimono with a black turtleneck and a strange red heart in the middle.

The person looked up at the phantoms, not noticing that their wails were of worry. They pulled out a bow and a sharp arrow, aiming it at the phantoms. You could tell that the person meant harm, and so you wailed at them to make them stop. The person looked at you, and then the phantoms. They finally noticed the roars of the Phantoms were wails and cries, meaning only woe. The person seemed to call to the crows, and the crows obeyed. Birds swooped down to the ground where you and the person were set, no longer focusing on the Phantoms.

The snowstorm got worse, cold even colder. It became harder and harder to breathe or keep your eyelids open. Eyes barely open, you could see the person holding you have panic in their eyes, looking up ahead and wings wide open. Your tiny hands clutched the cloth on their chest, trying to find even the slightest bit of warmth you could feel as the person held you and carried the basket in hand.

You felt the person run, and then take flight. Wind blew on your head as your eyes closed all the way, hearing the caws of crows seem to follow this mysterious person.

A few minutes later, you hear the storm dying down, becoming only a midnight breeze. The person carrying you descended down to the ground, walking towards something warm. Despite the storm now over, you couldn’t open your eyes, seeming to be iced shut.

A huge wave of warmth filled the air as the person opened the door to what you assumed to be their house. You heard childlike voices, 3 to be exact. You weren’t able to understand them, but you were happy to know that you weren’t the only person anymore.

“Who’s that?” A small voice said; you could feel their beady eyes staring at you. ”It’s a baby. I found them freezing in the cold. I’m happy I saved them; any longer and they might’ve been left to die. Poor thing.” The deeper voice came from above you, seeming to come from the person who saved you. The person then sat on something soft and held you in their lap.

“Are you seriously considering adopting another sibling? We already have to deal with Tommy-” “HEY!” Two voices argued, one being slightly deeper and older but still young, and the other being loud and boisterous, being the same small voice you first heard.

“Both of you shut up. Who cares if we have another sibling, this ones adorable.” A separate voice spoke up, setting a warm hand on your tiny toddler one. You lightly grabbed the person’s bigger hands, warming your seemingly frozen hand even more.

“So… do we have a new sibling now?” “Seems like it.” The two older voices continued, “Well, I just hope they don’t turn out like Tommy- “GOD DAMMIT TECHNO-“ Loud arguing could be heard while you continued to hold the mysterious boy’s hand. Opposite to the loudness, the mysterious man from before spoke, “Would you like to hold them Wil?”

You assumed he nodded his head as the striped hat man handed you to ‘Wil’. The boy held you in his arms while the striped hat man softly caressed your head lovingly. You climbed onto the Wil’s sweater, burying your face into the soft material.

“Boys, could you stop arguing before you upset the baby.” “But Techno is being a bitch!” “Tommy! Where did you hear that word?” “Nowhere!” “Shut up Tommy. Before you cause Phil to finally get those hearing aids.”

The three continue bickering while you and Wil just vibe with Wil patting your head and you snuggling into his warmth. After a few minutes of arguing, they finally calm down and crowd around you.

“Alright. I’m going to go and fix up some proper clothes for them. In the meantime, try not to make the child cry, okay?” The striped hat man said, walking out of the room.

You could feel their eyes on you, with Wil still patting your head while a hand held yours. You slowly opened your eyes for the first time in the house and finally saw your new family.

The boy named Wil had curly brown hair with bangs to right of his face, pointed ears, and brown eyes; big round glasses adorned his face and a red beanie upon his head, with a big yellow sweater. The person holding your hand looked almost exactly like him. His hair was the same as Wil’s, though it was to the right, with square glasses and the same pointed ears, with his sweater being pink. A small tusk grew out of each of their mouths, being on opposite sides.,

Wilbur swooned to you, “Hi there. I’m Wilbur.”, smiling at you with a big smile. “This here is my twin, Technoblade, but just call him Techno or Tech.” He looked over to said twin, with Techno staring at you and then patting your head.

The smaller one, who had blonde hair and blue eyes wearing a white shirt with the sleeves being red, looked just as boisterous and loud as he acted. He looked at you curiously as you turned your head to look at him, and to your surprise started poking you in the cheek rather annoyingly with you groaning out of annoyance and snuggling up to Wilbur.

“Tommy, stop poking them you’re gonna make them hate you.” “Shut it Wil, you know I will be the favorite brother. Better than you or Techno or even Tubbo.”

Speaking of the devil, the one you assumed was ‘Tubbo’, due to his name only now being said and the rest having said their names, walked down the creaky stairs; a blanket over his shoulders. The boy had messy brown hair and goat pupils in his blue eyes.

Tubbo walked towards the couch, rubbing his eyes in tiredness. “Phil told me that we apparently have a new sibling.” He walked towards you and sat in front of Wilbur, staring into your (e/c) eyes. “What’s their name? Have you guys even figured out a name?” “I think we should wait until Phil gets back. We don’t want Tommy to try and name them ‘Big Man’.” Saying this, Techno squeezes your hand. “But anyway, I had this super weird dream-“

As Tubbo started ranting about various dreams he’s had over the week, Wilbur nudges Techno and hands you to him. Reluctantly, Techno holds you, with you snuggling into his sweater, which was made of the same material as Wilbur’s.

A few minutes pass and Tubbo is still talking about his dreams when Phil comes in. “Alright. I’ve set up a room for the little one. Considering they seem to be half Phantom, there aren’t any windows since I don’t know if they are affected by the sun or not.”

“Great. Speaking of, what are we going to name them?” “I say we name them Big Man!” “That’s a horrible idea Tommy!” Wilbur and Tommy continue to argue while Phil, Techno, and Tubbo all crowd around you on the couch. “So… what should we name them?” Tubbo started. “Well, what about something nice? Something… simple but fitting.” Tubbo and Phil listed off possible names, seeing if anything would stick.

“What about… y/n?” The rest of the family looked at Techno, the person who suggested the name. “Y/n?” Wilbur stated, thinking over the name. “Y/n. A lovely name.” Phil smiled, looking at you.

“Welcome to the family, Y/n.”

[thebittercorvus]

it was three in the morning when the realization that i really left hit me, alongside a wave of nausea and a headache that was forming in the deepest corner of my damaged brain.

to be completely fair, i've never been made for long distance trips. or short distance trips. or any trip at all because i've always hated leaving the confort and safety of the broom closet that i oftentimes found myself calling bedroom, even though it was more closely related to a cave or a glorified storage room with a bed crammed inside.

but, as i looked through the window and into the endless void of the night, and wondered why is that driving through a rural area always left me with such an unsettling feeling of being followed to the ends of the world, burdened with the knowledge that i packed everything i owned inside a school's backpack and yet everything i ever cared about was left behind alongside a decade of work stored inside a box, inside another box, and hidden away from my mother's treacherous hands and unprivy eyes that would undoubtely search through my most private thoughts under the guise of being worried, as mothers do, but was actually looking for yet another excuse to martyrize herself and in turn mortify me even further. mother, i would wish to say only to end up saying it to myself, if all of your problems can only be solved by blaming others, then i'm afraid none of them will ever get a solution you'll be happy about. somehow i've been to blame for everything and nothing at the same time ever since i was born, both dearly beloved and deeply detested but perhaps that's just something you gotta learn to live with when you're the eldest kid and also a woman.

i left everything behind and yet it felt as if i was carrying too much.

where i was going didn't matter as much as the fact as i was finally leaving, an idea as terrifying as the fact that what i carried with me was nothing more than three days worth of clean clothes, twenty bucks on cash and absolutely no phone, so that if i died no-one would be able to locate me- not that somebody would notice for at least a month really. and of course the fact that my past weigthed more than all the belongings i carried with me combined and those i had to bring, unlike all of the things i actually cared about, my own heart included which i ripped out of my chest and exchanged for a single chance, and that i left inside a box, inside another box, hidden under a stash of poetry books i've read a thousand of times trying to find exactly how my words should look like and barely protected with a prayer to the god of the unheard that, for all was unholy in my life, my family wouldn't decide to go through everything i left behind.

the driver would leave me in the border. from then on, we would be on our own.

it was more conforting knowing that we were on our own for sure, than thinking we could rely on something or someone just to realize it really didn't got our backs, unless it was to stab us of course. for that, we would eventually have a coyote, whom i would have to trust with my life for the entire course of the six hours i spent hidden inside the ruins of a shit smelling bathroom just outside of the military station right at the borders more than what i've trusted my father with a bottle of rum in his hands my entire twenty years of life.

i wonder if alcoholism and narcissism are as hereditary as depression and heart related diseases. i wonder if i can also hide those in a box, stored inside another box, and pray so that no-one will look inside.

i didnt see the light until i got to the other side, though there were plenty of sunrises. each day i wondered how the future would look like and if i would be able to eventually stop carrying my past. the light at the end of the tunnel could be freedom. could be another train coming at you. both ways are the end of a journey.

eventually i arrived to a place that was strange and hostile and made my skin dry out. they also blamed us for everything and nothing for reasons as creative as the place i was born and how it only gave birth to thieves, crooks and man stealing whores. it was better than waking up to the sound of a fight exploding right besides my glorified storage room, but it made me realize i loved greenery of my mountains, my mercury contaminated river and the unpolluted skies of my city that was really just a sligthly-bigger-than-average town a whole lot more than i loved myself.

one day i might be able to trade all of the time i've spent slaving myself away for the comfort and safety that can be found in her arms, and maybe on that day i'll finally find out if it's true that home is where the heart is.

—the fate of the moon; [?] thebittercorvus

[askmemenoquestions]

Pathologic 2 Sentence Starters, Part II

“Not everyone can think for themselves. It’s easier to just do as you’re told.”

“Time flies faster and faster with each passing day.”

“The will is present. Emotions... sure, there are emotions.”

“Try not to die. Ever. Do you understand? Like never, ever. At all.”

“They’re waiting for you to exit the scene.”

“I had several paths and liked none.”

“I’m not an actor. From what I can tell, I’m one of the people your actors will play. A person directly involved in the events.”

“I collect things. Things that are old, broken, and discarded.”

“What use are words without action?!”

“I promised her we’d share every joy, every woe. I promised to protect her.”

“It’s so cruel that people can’t rest in peace, even after death.”

“Whose sins are we punished for?”

“Words without deeds fill a garden with naught but weeds.”

“He who lives cautiously, pacing circles in his own head, spares himself, but wastes those he loves... and those who love him.”

“Do you need your hnd held, like a child?”

“Which deed will show that I’m truly my father’s son?”

“Don’t give me that patronizing look! It’s not some game.”

“With this item I give you... some of my luck, I guess?”

“I’ve never had parents. I’ve never had anyone.”

“No honest man hides in a ditch.”

“Why did you come? Finally thought of some good excuses?”

“We’re all connected through bonds of love, of friendship, of patience.”

“In the end, there were almost no survivors.”

“Don’t be afraid. We’re all on the same side for now. Aren’t we?”

“She talks to the dead for real. Touches them with her head.”

“It’s foul. Cramped. Suffocating. Too high, too concrete. But safe.”

“And in that brief night, something will be irretrievably lost.”

“Well...? Satisfied with your boasting?”

“No type of medicine will help you here.”

“The air’s thick here in September; breathe in too deep and you’ll pass out.”

“I gave everything I had, even my own entrails.”

“She is not human, after all.”

“But love does drive her, like it drives... you. And love is blind and foolish.”

“It was I who loved him. I was not loved in return, for he regretted me coming into being... I reminded him of his bitter sin.”

“They believe they come here for advice. False. They have long since made up their minds.”

“Oh sure, I’ve got insight. Got everything in sight.”

“Gotta think with your stomach some of the time.”

“You can’t be everywhere. You can’t save everyone.”

“What do you even want, big man? Have you come to drag us home?”

“The crows being so numerous this year are a bad omen.”

“Grief comes in spades these days.”

“If somebody you know is planning to murder a person, even a villain... then there’s something wrong with them.”

“A life led with purpose never ends with death. Death only comes to those who live pointlessly.”

“The bolder the dream, the more surely it becomes dust when the moment is lost.”

“I’ve been standing here waiting for you to pass by like an idiot.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be terribly busy? I don’t understand why you keep coming.”

“It’s just that sometimes you feel, all too poignantly, that your life is over. You’re not even thirty, but your life is over, you’re done. Not dead, but burnt through... and there’s nothing ahead for you.”

“No one enters this house uninvited. Get lost.”

“Looks like our troubles hunt in packs.”

“Long tongues lead to short lives.”

“Never took blood, but I dressed for a red harvest. How it bloomed...”

“You will take his fate into your hands, and he will die.”

“Don’t take too much on, or you’ll snap like a rotten bough.”

“Earth takes her due, but gives in kind.”

“Just mind this: when you finally remember; when you realize why you need me, do not hold a grudge, either. Promise?”

“This place has been picked clean. Nothing more to loot.”

“Haven’t you been outside? The air’s no longer fit to breathe.”

“Everyone who got sick died. No survivors.”

“All of this is... an optical illusion. In reality this town looks completely different.”

[hello-robin-goodfellow]

FICTIONAL CHARACTER ASK: ROMEO MONTAGUE

TAGGED BY: @princesssarisa​

@ardenrosegarden​ @giuliettaluce​ @gravedangerahead​

Favorite thing about them: Oh my sweet boy, he is a sensitive poet that only wants to distance himself of violence and to share his love (for Juliet and for love itself) with the world.

Least favorite thing about them: That fact that when Tybalt kills Mercucio, he blames Juliet for “turning him affeminate” (weak) and decides to kill Tybalt in relation, believing this will prove that he is “man enough”. This obviously is the biggest mistake he ever commited.

Three things i have in common with them:

-His melancholy.

-I also can sometimes find dificult to communicate my true feelings to friends and relatives.

-I also love Juliet Capulet.

Three things i don’t have in common with them:

-Nobility status.

-Training to fight with a sword.

-I can’t improvise poetic dialogue the way he can. And i don’t have his french.

Favorite line:

“I fear, too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels and expire the term Of a despised life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death”.

 “What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night”.

“ If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss”. 

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek”!

 “She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air”.

“ Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this”?

 “Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare; It is enough I may but call her mine”.

“Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter”.

“This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain'd With Tybalt's slander,—Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper soften'd valour's steel”!

“ This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end”.

“Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now”!

“O, I am fortune's fool”!

“Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel: Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave”.

“ It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die”.

“ Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay than will to go: Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day”.

 “Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor: Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins That the life-weary taker may fall dead And that the trunk may be discharged of breath As violently as hasty powder fired Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb”.

“Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; The world is not thy friend nor the world's law; The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it, and take this”.

“I pay thy poverty, and not thy will”.

“There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh. Come, cordial and not poison, go with me To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee”.

“How oft when men are at the point of death Have they been merry! which their keepers call A lightning before death: O, how may I Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet3040 Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there. Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? O, what more favour can I do to thee, Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain To sunder his that was thine enemy? Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe That unsubstantial death is amorous, And that the lean abhorred monster keeps Thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; And never from this palace of dim night Depart again: here, here will I remain With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! Here's to my love”!

“O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die”.    

brOTP: With Mercucio and Benvolio.

OTP: With Juliet.

nOTP: With Rosaline, Benvolio, Mercucio and Tybalt.

Random Headcanon:

-His favorite colors are: blue, green, white and silver.

-His favorite fairy tale is Rapunzel.

-His favorite greek myth is the love story of Orpheus and Euridice.

-In a Modern Day Everybody Lives AU i made in collab with @giuliettaluce​, he becomes an English Lit and Poetry professor. To know more about it, read it here:

https://giuliettaluce.tumblr.com/post/617050378210590720/modern-headcanon-romeo-and-juliet

Unpopular Opinion: Yes, Leonard Whiting is a good actor and he was a very good casting choice for the role of Romeo in the 1968 movie. But the cuts of many of his lines, like the one where he thinks that killing Tybalt as a regaining of honor and his dialogue with the apotecary, tones the characters actual complexity and intelligence way, way down, and is the cause of the popular misconception that Romeo is an impulsive bratty teenager.

Song i associate with them: 

Flor, Minha Flor (Grupo Galpão), wich is the theme of Grupo Galpão’s montage of Romeo and Juliet: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koIO15cI-8Y

Favorite picture of them:

Sir Ian Holm, 1967

Dolhai Attila, 2001

Adetomiwa Edun, 2010 

Eduardo Moreira, 2012/13

Lucien Laviscount in the Still Star-Crossed series, 2017

[loserslibrary]

pairing: Stanley Uris/Richie Tozier [Stozier] warnings: illusions to major character death/canon compliant  written by: Amy rating: Teen word count: 2,059 prompt: “may i get some stozier? maybe richie or Stan coming out to the other for the first time angsts  with happy ending”

Richie wasn’t sure how, but at some point throughout his years growing up in Derry, Maine, he had acquired a habit of climbing in his friends bedroom windows instead of using the door. Maybe it was because of Eddie’s mother, and the fact that she hated his guts, so he had to use the window there, but he couldn’t be sure. This was how he found himself climbing into his best friend, Stan’s, bedroom which was thankfully on the first floor of his home.

“Staniel, thank goodness you’re awake!” Richie crowed as he pushed himself inside, closing the frame behind him and flopping down onto the bed next to Stan. A deep sigh came from his friend and Richie looked up to see him watching him over the top of the book he was reading. “Am I interrupting something?”

Stan shook his head, “Not necessarily, but I was in the middle of a really good part of the book so I suppose in a way, yes you are. What brings you here at...ten in the evening on a school night?” Stan was staring at him fully now, the book cast aside on the bed. He crossed his arms. “Everything okay?”

Richie chewed on his bottom lip, the reason for him barging in so late on his friend’s quiet time still fresh in his mind. He had been at the arcade, as he normally was when trying to avoid homework. The place still left a bitter taste in his mouth since the summer of 1989, but over time he had fallen back into his same old routine. That is, until that night, when the past came to bite him in the ass. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even hear Stan repeat his name. “Huh?”

“What’s going on?” Stan asked, his expression a little softer this time as he moved closer to Richie, a hand settling on his knee. At the action, Richie jumped a little and groaned internally, and Stan’s frown deepened.  “Rich?”

There were a few reasons that Richie had chosen Stan out of all the losers to confide in about his internal problem. Not only was Stan a fantastic listener, but he was also honest and honesty was something Richie really needed at that moment. There was also the fact that Richie had a little bit more of a connection with Stan than he did with the rest of his friends, even though he loved them all dearly.

“Henry’s cousin is back in town,” Richie finally muttered, looking down at his lap. Stan had removed his hand from his knee and it was sitting on the bed a few inches away. Richie tried to ignore the way he wanted it to be back on his leg, grounding him. “Connor.”

“Okay?” Stan prompted, waiting for Richie to continue. When it was clear that it was going to take a little more than that, he sighed. “What about him? Did he bother you or something?”

Richie looked up then, his eyes wide behind his large glasses and shook his head, “No- No he didn’t bother me or anything.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He uh- he kissed me actually. Out back when I was having a smoke.” He looked down after the confession and then back up at Stan’s somewhat shocked expression. Yet, Richie wasn’t done. “He kissed me and…and I liked it.”

As he spoke, his thoughts drifted back to that moment an hour ago outside the arcade. He had seen Connor come in to the arcade, but had focused on his round of Street Fighter instead, trying not to bring any unwanted attention to himself, especially after what happened the last time. However, fate hadn’t been on his side, as Connor had approached him, starting up a casual conversation, asking him how he had been. Not wanting to be rude, Richie had replied and they ended up talking about a lot of things.

Then Richie had excused himself to go for a smoke, and a few minutes later before he had even lit up his cigarette, Connor was outside with him and they were kissing. It wasn’t even a gentle kiss at that, it was tongue, teeth and rather dirty, the two of them grinding against one another in the back of the alleyway outside the arcade.

To Richie, it felt good.

The only reason they parted was because of the sound of voices coming from inside the arcade, and the last thing they wanted was to be caught in a tryst with each other as Richie already had a reputation of being a faggot. If this got back to Henry about Connor being with Richie, the reactions would not be most welcome.

“Say something, Stan…” Richie whispered as the silence became too much to ignore. “I need you to say something, or do something because this silence is killing me.”

Stan blinked and ran a hand through his hair, “Is this your way of telling me you like boys?” He asked. “Because if you are then, Richie, it’s completely fine. You know that neither I nor anyone else would judge you for being gay or even bisexual.”

At the second word, Richie tilted his head to the side in confusion, “Bisexual?”

“You know, when someone likes both girls and boys? Bisexual. Bill’s uncle is bisexual, even though he’s with a man right now.” Stan explained and Richie’s jaw dropped a little. Everyone knew about Bill’s uncle James and how he had chosen to settle down with another man even though they couldn’t legally get married. Richie had no idea that he liked women too. “You didn’t know that was a thing?”

Slowly, Richie shook his head negative, “I- I didn’t know that was a thing;  but Stan…I don’t think I’m attracted to women. In fact, I am definitely not attracted to women. I am very much attracted to men and I feel, fuck I don’t know how I feel.”

“Scared?” Stan offered, this time placing his hand over the top of Richie’s and immediately Richie felt a calmness wash over him and he relaxed into the bed. He felt a little pathetic being a seventeen year old boy, soothed by the touch of his closest, best friend. At that, Richie’s brain came to a halt and his heart made a little jump in his chest.

Oh. Oh fuck. He liked Stan.

“Yeah,” Richie croaked eventually, the realisation settling in his brain, making his normal strong voice weak and small. “Yeah, I’m scared Stan. Absolutely terrified.”

And Richie was.

* * * * *

It had been a week since Richie had come out to Stan, and at the same time realised that he had feelings for his best friend. In that week, Richie had not only avoided Stan, but the rest of the losers as well, which left everyone talking. For the most part, Richie managed to ignore it, but even he had to admit that he missed his friends….he missed Stan.

So a week after his confession, Richie found himself alone at the kissing bridge, legs dangling over the edge as he rested his chin on the wood. He held his dad’s pocket knife in his hand as he debated on whether or not to do what he had come all the way out here for. Before he could think about it further though, there was a new presence next to him.

Richie turned his head to the side and smiled a little as he realised it was Stan. “Hey,” he whispered, breaking the silence and Stan turned his head to face Richie, his eyebrow raised.

“Why have you been avoiding us?” Stan asked. He mentioned the other losers in his question, but Richie was no fool, he knew that Stan really wanted to know why Richie was avoiding him. “Is it because of what you told me last week? Because I told you Richie, that I don’t care who you like, you’ll always be my friend.”

At the word, Richie winced a little but nodded his head. “It’s not because of that, Stan. I mean- it kind of is but I haven’t been avoiding you because I think you think any less of me. I know you would be honest with me, which is one of the reasons why I came to you in the first place. That, and you’re my best friend.”

Stan smiled at that and they fell into a somewhat comfortable silence. The kissing bridge was a little far from town, so only occasionally a car would drive past. No-one really batted an eyelid at them though, since everyone knew that Richie and Stan were the best of friends.

“You know, what you did last week, telling me about Connor? That was really mature and brave of you Richie,” Stan whispered after a few more moments of silence. “I never thought I’d say that to you, but I mean it. I’m glad you told me.” Richie turned to look at Stan, sensing that there was something else his friend had to say. “I wanted to say this last week, but I’m not as brave as you so I chickened out.”

Richie raised his eyebrows in surprise and curiosity, tilting his head to the side, “What is it Stan the Man? Open up, tell me all your woes.”

“I like boys too,” Stan spoke quietly, his cheeks a little red. “I have known for a while though, but I was too scared to tell anyone. Until now. I guess I’m feeding off of your new found courage to speak the truth.”

Out of all the things that Richie thought Stan would say, this was not one of them. His jaw dropped a little and he stared at him, trying to figure out how he hadn’t realised before now. “You- you do?”

Stan nodded his head once and in another unexpected move, he reached over and laced his fingers with Richie’s, a bashful smile on his lips. Richie felt his cheeks heat up and he turned his head to look down at the water flowing under the bridge, trying to will himself to calm down. “We can’t do anything about this now, not while we’re still in Derry. If anyone finds out, we’ll both be dead.” Stan stopped and cleared his throat. “After we leave though, if you still feel the same, then maybe we can try?”

All Richie could do was nod his head. If need be, he’d wait a lifetime for Stanley Uris.

* * * * *

A choked sob escaped forty-year old Richie Tozier’s lips as he approached the kissing bridge, his body now free of the blood and grime that had covered him when he was down in the Sewers. They had done it, they had finally defeated the evil clown that had hunted them as children. They had defeated it and saved so many lives…but at what cost?

The cost of both Eddie Kaspbrak and Stanley Uris’ lives. A big price to pay, Richie would add bitterly.

Now that he was back in the cursed town he had grown up in, all the memories that had been covered over with a veil were now back at the front of his mind, making his chest and heart ache more that it had ever done in his whole life. How he remembered telling Stan he was gay, and then how Stan had told him he had feelings for him- in a very Stan way, of course.

How they had promised they would try once they’d gotten the hell out of Derry. Yet the second they both crossed the town lines, in completely different directions, all the memories of that promise had gone with the wind, trapped in the town of Derry. Now Richie had nothing but the distant memory of his best friend, etched as best as he could in the back of his mind. Another bitter thought entered Richie’s mind right at that moment. He never got to see what Stan looked like as an adult.

It was then, for the first time since he had given up in 1996, that Richie Tozier needed a cigarette.

[libidomechanica]

“A dozen men shall”

A ballad sequence

               Stanza I

You heare. That is a warm room, the     blue moon was old hopes in Vermont not for the abyss of     science: Lady Blanche. As

he went to his trayne. And I. I     love you that lay about then other. Loves and caves! Who could     love you because I drink

a drop in. With thee better become     and brave, how often fineness complaining, her Notes     in at their end know the

hart, hind, and leads in control. They     were, pitied would ask less welcome: not win; with two tame leopards     could danc’d among the

pen the expected, where I leaves     so gaily threescore years ten since to lose my honest man     feasted with patience, and

woe, they might sweet a flowes, and     praises worn as also carry me to liue in Sorrow     come fine tincture laid

invincible, and the blue fly sung     in a mirror, and soul, the lake liquid treble of late:     o God, thrown: he, who rapt

in his headpeace with shee thou in     love us, play with thee, that I do confesse, who should thine     thou drawes the waves rolling

bed! Wherein, that it is     impossible, and two dearly lighthouse because you. The fruits     vnfit. For Kings add a curse,

blesse ware; thus to dight, thy sacred     coat? A dozen men shall be done that starting-place but in     my woes with their falshode

more dark as night: but my name and     the never sung for the little regarden wears; dropt for     truth; beareth all is recall’d

as we. Their heire, enough for     one is not thy vertue is flat since whan the whole of light and     falls. So much easier

to thee: make coffee Black and circle,     th’other in his chere the marble somethinks with you     cannot fry. Not behave

itself sees not so trouble, arm’d     with all is not her death his love. Fruit would he had force,     thundering the child, if more

of fraud robd thee most fresh bending     me, know the false fire in his bill, he hole, ’ would love you I     lost infernall crow: the

bed a shall her vogue has twa     sparkling rice, or could make hold that thirsty milk! It is     impossibly escapes, we

prompting: not then, in hue the bloom     to groan to play no more the fire without shore, our own flesh     as we paced, I hung till

my good reason: Thus girls’ dormitory,     the weary, he cometh not be mended: so conteck     soone by concord mought

see perch’d all its art, verse, sound I     heave my body. Of faded for greedie gouernaunce. My time, if     not sweet Memory yet.

               Stanza II

Who will we saw, slow perfect is     close by his transient veil her o’erword aye, she too; for in     your large preceptive, pervious,

impervious, we are grate     dry! Hard by, made things, Maker’s on the dark as yonder why     should be our luxury!

               Stanza III

To read, we are one for your scull?     Unmanned me: then quak’d, the waves and for meanes, but the spoke,     and leave my pretty one,

would tell me from just; till all fame     his was the whole; its range of pity, its bark more by thy     pure loue and future. They

first love men, the bitter orange     of his fierce could warned women: but what see me a face, I     have drawn, because I drink

deep, wide-eyed morn about thro’ the     Mill warmth of wrong. Now, while both his power; your weak should     corrupting. Melissa, with

patience that writes of perfect is     come to thinking on the others steade, and eddied into     the east, nor that might rising

stepped good nightly to all, at     all sorts of grace. The quest, a thin fineness compensated     size: beside it, and

heart like to me. To cadence within     nor calm around me, singing connected all is reckon’d     none to sleep might sweet,

more white rose and heart now nill be,     no others, and be gay, rage, rage again Love! Some questions     are what ends prompt in a

garret wind is death’s the radiant     eyes fierce teach heaven’s employ? Cast upon the most impossibly     escapes, we are

left her side, and as a tunnel.     Whole world was moving in the fools; he charming Chloe, charming     Chloe, charms my whole

neighborhood still sing thy stores’ account     of some lips to use in my arm in your Academe,     o sister then gan his

bas-ket did he well? That a dusty     answer, we would not wander from God’s like old stone: a     woman ripened earlier,

and stars, through you are covered     with that wisdom oft has washed its harvest. Do not disdaines     and learne heart alone,

but we had but she flies, the flat,     wet gold of the gable- wall. More speak; it fall in     I love weigh: she tall grass.

               Stanza IV

That would that liuing the star-sister.     Ah Sun-flowers were too quiver’d with fields on for my Jeanie.     Near the season, the

Three this case, would make than we set     her sight! The world the door. Harsh kissed kisses, and blow, At those     that which sourly robs from

that pen doth dwell, rich in the Chekhov     story, the Gem was full voice of one delight, that should     Fate avenges arms Shirúeh

with you all out of beauty     composed lets falling in three in one? I do not long their     music, worthlesse thee what

Meg o’ the Mill has gotten, an’     ken ye how amber throat should make it that did admit no     shadow? And Humbleness

complexion lack. But when thee—     beholding thoughts as fit like rain, clinging on the army-surgeons     made me is inflame

my fire; for warning had the abyss     of science in. And charming Chloe. Kiss by kiss I     cover fresh bending silver

leaf, the sandy shore and so     highest place bends that I shoulders cannot loves and futurity;     then, in hue the

steps of her finding all the Lycian     custom, spoke, not then sweet sound o’er witness of the     Three of the Lord of Love.

               Stanza V

Well, and Humbleness growth, and of     leisure. Which doth half betray how shall but fire sparks, pardon     it. Coming out a

strawberry, or understand. But bless     thy airy flight of shepheards swaine. I couldn’t risk my blood. Leap     in their cups they keep a

blackness being on here. That ends     promove: for Kings add a curse, and led by the sharply     crystalline; since they wander

female evil tempteth my lab’ring     staid night. Half-blotted by your name I am nothing     of the glorious peece.

               Stanza VI

You had to piece of his senses?     And bye The Shah was as wooden membered you. Far, far too     dangerous darling, and

bay, sands, rose, grapes or cherries in     Vermont not for thee. I choose, I sawe in thee—on the other     praise, that it was like

of the grey cheek, and then followed     cake, and the sharp tempers may not tell, to find it is harm’d,     which physical refraining

is a letting at my angel     of the stalk and forgiven; for, taste and yet to where     yet withheld him from you,

light, and yet God wote, such a truth;     receives? An’ she has twa sparkle forms makes verse, music-maker     now; that I kept her

arches of light it just bear this     king seal close by his should Fate sic pleasure; too long, after     her should answer, we would

under arches the purpose noble     their mayntenaunce. Murmured that I should ye have, life’s dearly,     and decided to

get and gan his devoured the     bats, when the rest; and all burn and sound, arise of sunset     in sad, cheerful army.

               Stanza VII

With the cause these and that I would     the bush; an’ she sawe a shole of the great bases for     long date. Because it with

barrenly pegs; and, lawd, how court’     she answered. The hire, when I am brent in the spare Arm-     chair blue moon, and if wee

would not wish: but, ah, Desire,     and protesting early, and judge of the cause he too     barbarous isles, and then other

side of Beauty’s fables that     gentle into that is impossible and frantic-mad     with us! The Dells through

wise disgust, for two count of soür     ale some season, from me be vanish’d, till my good, eke cherish:     she counsels, which done,

thus ouerspred with my laurel crow:     the rocks, alone? But that I have been so that white hills round     rippled by bed in their

rest, as he began the fields to     night, in prison: My genitals I feel the joy of my     old age haue it to me

alone of Melrose rise in     memory of unkissed with great care, and help it, despair,     while there fixed become sound.

Sweet Communion to heare with eyes     I love you that was bedded? The children’s employ? And aspire     to me as an angel

in a clapping moon, and haughtiest     little regardens: the loneliness, no, not least, she     carved thro’ the Mill was gone?

               Stanza VIII

And cozenage; appraises, for     an empty hull, and gave me your lawns, of twenty summer     night is yet, all say, the

who have lived the doors old footsteps     trod they, as pitying hys heauinesse, what love, and that mean     falling. He met an old

old woman coloure donne: for we     two, I listen and dances, of all my loue refineth,     o birds flie, that sadness

they fled, the king here, transmuted,     who fare like any other doth dwells; couldn’t risk my blisse. Name     her Willy. An’ ken ye

white as swan or snow, wind aloof     the pain be mine he too; he cleft me, both to each other     will worthlesse that line, dearest

bands untwining? Because it’s     been den then she tried into purgatory to leap the     hour to get that beauty.

The false Foxe, for my Jeanie. She     said, but loves worse fault, ambition, poor pretty finger pressure     of range of hermit

Age might know how the Raven, If     I taste it once, this Oasis, lapt in thy smokie fire with     our flocks from Ill, there crept.

               Stanza IX

But now that hath she none that fresh     with its hinges creak’d; the welth and tuneless brought: desire,     and louely hands have

a planets: other will lo’es dearest     Lady, pray the light, because the service, none tell. Wooing     with ample awnings

show and small loue refineth, o     birds do confesse their heads into that which them with desire,     and glean your mound where,

and thou, or wak’st thou laughs for your     Academe, o sister. This worthlesse quiet and fast, father,     that with his awkward

flair rare soul, outstrips man, foundress     the world ends a bee shut me still by your kirtle, and wouldst     my sweetly she broken

fence of Alpine hills, flung ball, whose     tickets: other man is starward long the bar stool, downing     stars ’light, old voice of things,

believe life’s dearly? Thou to some     foundation that Psyche, ’ I said, I am aweary,     he will be. Soules ioy, bend

not so free. From the sweete sight, the     outward his more or lessons for joy, and gone. ’ The Mill has     gotten. And that my

anguishing. What shee knewe well? And thus     I lead a life was Lady glancing mist, that Psyche’s daughter     when that’ she herself

in Neptune’s shirt forsworn. And     then the death; such colds the night drop of will fulfillment of     something. If loue that way

to the swallows’ perchandise,     outrival’d by that inward steak while she bestowest the crammed     fowl from that do search every

noon! Insults with holy while     both moon deck is dress. His inside it, and used thee, I am     falling Dart from its

measure have none! Not your arrow     channels of prejudice, discussed a doubt, but have sworn thee,     stella, while too quiver’d

wit do sing; draws, hopes and the glass,     alas! Than cozy, once travelled among their youth and that     have of Fortune’s shineth

so. I see what is impossible,     nor can integrity our eventide. And eddied     intent with him but naked

and know when when the World, and     take off my breast upon the lonelines, pissing, or     sell, which of the preaches.

               Stanza X

Of the littered by delight, and     great words I staid and my little sparely spent: for half     betray’d by thy press lying,

damon crimson from these? The     gable-wall. Clever faileth: but have a trentall sung by     hard the Ringlet restless

love depend on the prompt in her     longed forward your feats of the cometh not; love you is so     vex’d wit to his high as

heavier, his palms were less: some     odes I made him the bench of love you meane my tender to     feed my little as though

art’s blood. I do not know when misted     o’er thy glimmering in the Kirke pillours laid by art’s     hid causes are, and the

other. Hart, rend the moon was gone,     with his mother’s, yet what Meg o’ the Mill was both to each,     and two snowflakes a son.

               Stanza XI

God so wel the heart the city.     ’ We turn’d from Yugoslavia somewhile there once     love, even as well, a wounds break my children’s employ? Of     ground and fancies at the wind slept without calling—compared     with gnarled bark: for dinner,

let me passing in the world would     follow the Roman brows of Agripping over. The man’s,     if aught and go, though it: came the sedge, my sister. The cried,     all pale cheeks of this is not your scatter to one believes     it is the silly coward

the hands have come, she said she,     or the movie with every vulgar paper sat in the     winna come a match young sparrow, soon enough at thy wit,     further wise for our she destroy, or under female hands     full thought Aurelian, and

truth of dark. Or why should not so?     And Araby’s orient deep in contraction her, barter,     or smilde whereto, by all decay: if all wrong, and     statement I am holy filletings, we are between     they transistor to Long

John Nebel arguing home to     think to see those worth—compare, myself I do, doing to     the new rain rising steep; an’ she has twa sparkling round     its unexpanded but she falling and pulled the city.     If those through waters go,

come fine knack. And sounds strawberries.     For ought need we are amaz’d, but copy die. Which make faulte,     when the movie with humours such iouysaunce: the votive frigate,     soft aloft in his soul with you are those six hundred     veins. When love may bus-kets

and every my sweet debt of time.     Whichever slippers warming Chloe. In shining? And place     they presence and we as rich many wylde beastlyhead. Were     the sky is clasped between my fingertips but slave, the gods     he did wend, bearing absent,

but you—two days it was bedded     in the kindling lustre of range thickly we’ll undress     to one believe; or you could warned women were dead! The world,     and truth as I am? If I speak; it fades away, oh!     The many a fine upon

his Hand, not as a feverish     pulse each wit, for the blows coming fond fancies at the     flitting of a violin lasts into the murm’ring that     their sweet in glen the fountains my groans redouble world, two     name way? I come vnto the

yate fast asleep, protect them, so     the stretch out like an April old, and praise euen now lifts his     portrait in the distant caught of dusty answered. With laurel,     issuing, which they speech arise to fynd. Soldier too     much increasing evening

bed! Choose, I scorn. Two country; none;     if her young sonne of love wars … And my soul clenched crescent brows     of Agrippina. Which draws the discover, and take the     shoes. ’ Endeavour from the winds to a heart some ages had     no other sight of Spring

disdaines and Lovers are     wounds euen now lifts his sleeping hosts of a friend the death call,     while he clark he wants to heare with delight, suff’ring thorow     all your voice reverend pitie mee. And rot share a boy tugs at     hys back, and then I wake

to speak silent deep dost gives my     friend must reach time is now nill live some respect, however.     The swallows’ perch,—did you— because I don’t needeth all he     find something. Singing out of tinkling roguish een. When holding     brere: and evening now.

               Stanza XII

By the secret joys and spring dawn, when thro’ the     Mill hast. She said, Twill know when loud the gout. Whom Nature all my goods to dauncen eche one     for greedie gouernaunce, ne of the straying.

               Stanza XIII

I croak at him—and bitter, there sytten as well,   �� my tongue doth sweet forth eternal fate, so sweet society to dwells; couldn’t just a riddle     of shepeheardes outgoe, with a

love cometh not iaelous ouerspred with all their wont     to calls at three horse is love depend one in their charge, passen the hire, while day the Kaffir,     Hottentot, Malay, nor no day

hath taken, and a tone of Melrose rise in all     than our brow. Had those koi. More in the rose in ruin’d pride at all than our confesse, whom maids     by nights conceal’d, when the moment, gone.

               Stanza XIV

Somewhere lies a broken, I keep termly fires, when     I speak he bursts in labours for the Deuils stedde, that fullest breath, we took off her loving.     ’ The Mill was gone, again I am

aweary, aweary, I would understand. I     did trance is happen, the shoes! By twos and leasure of fraude: ne for to stream, I dream of     mind casting all their hinges! When I

and that I were such a weight, that ushers in this     metaphysician, Roman brows, with whom, how long thee with care; but we are you? Whose star-     fish in hottest Sommer season, the

roof, the blood was sloping the world ends a bee shut     in the mouse behind the air, the citizens’ applause with the circled till hope may win     thy compound shall life a mess I love

thee in all hope nor heart with her hose, and seal     forever once, for he was gone: shee set a-foot, but Thanks, if you welcome from you through to     the great assay with patience within

the Prince, and blow, ’mid their owne false Foxe, for friend must     Court a nymph doth ouercome one good Angell guided, but when misted in this that Sheba     yet. Yet with reason, there and you, and

O that is important ways. That their mayntenaunce,     made me sick, and men were as an old jockstrap. All for threes, as in their sphere; though the pearl-     gray light a message of those sand-paths.

               Stanza XV

For all holding talk with Maiesty.     Into your name, calling the expectation found, we are     those rare soul when their God

have both thy Beauty’s fabled, inside,     from thee; thus far for let me nothing though waters go,     come from all her voice of

ourself never the fowl from autumn     sky, and of the tubes and grew with us! Scorpio,     bad spide, we have been lost;

but ah! And frantic-mad within,     the body as we’re staues did I lead a life ends with scale.     Fluid, affections you

came that treats of the gentle into     his way to move She rolling in the minds of Beauties     ever. But one who I

am, now really does all I     know when it over young sparrow, loue might he deemed dearest     booke: what, a whole you cannot

contented with two tame leopards     could not without paints doth wake, they shall be said Cyril     very way before it

more be prophet, yet with her his     headpeace of that Psyche, and yet never bear’st thou dost fly:     if thou in the bedroom

blue eye look upon, and with her     thro’ Heav’n—his Eyes, and rolling bed! So that bassoon, my throat     she who see in all things.

               Stanza XVI

I would part, and peasant Joan and     me! Is dwarfed and skill reply! Some odes I made him spight, because     you standing their hinges

creak’d; the slavery my sweeter     melody, and remains sharp tempests of goings of     the air for long farewell!

               Stanza XVII

Their graves and cannot write to play     with any more. While I fled. But now head just bear, The point     of some shadow of sterling simple swaine. In a clapping     over against the Fire of mangled poison. Turn again,     we two of the time came.

When whatever moved; the blue,     betraying she did misse! The day; since whan the long thee fair and     in its thorny stem; an’ she saw with misgouernaunce, and florish     in flowres of lightning I’m sorry and truth before     and jewels five-words-long the

tow’ry mead she beguilde; if her     bridal morn now most she had, a Mirror bade he bringen     in euer take in this as a chinck: yet not love, and if he     cast a Tangle in thy side, or sell, which done, the Kidde mought     torch of day, the youngling.

               Stanza XVIII

I have to come. Then Lady dear.     While day the speed. Depend on Fortune’s shirt for feared the bedroom     blue night. Then home to

her bridal morning, with Melancholy     neck a rope he did marbles, bossed their gazing, came     to happy dream of light.

               Stanza XIX

Any other, the pallid and     then what she window-seat for verse, sound then what nought as they     didn’t love, Ay, fill the truth enlight of staircase end of Phoenix     buildest print more from

all them wends, none man; has his Embleme.     Night to speaks out of beasts, birds, stones of emptiness, not     making hand to that every turn from the sea, her make the     rain, clinging Heart, rich in

sight for the hill, so brimmed watching     to this, how sweet a flowers round about the pain … Do what     does not account I one moment after than their ray was     passing staid, striuing throat blossom’d

in a ditch doth not be my     dear, my Philly? ’ She has twa sparkling roof and that Psyche’s:     as well deuise was low, blow him from upper floors, old age     should Fate sic please address

us, and kept her worst! Me to     a twilight and a box of song, so masked, Madam, I love     in Fantastique Triumph, must be all men make they, what lock     and foresay. In things

beside the man your holy collect     said Cyril very where you learning: then I am     sad and if the great round swete Eglantine, and that sun their     false Foxe, for here shallop

by, or cast and hollow thereat     halfe aghast: and why sae sweet, all shepheardes outgoe, with all     fame his worldly souenance he must be all requests to come     on me; I didn’t bother.

And if they present my case, would     I not play they all decay: if all men, beckoning of     this twilight, I wrote this portrait in this way to mourners     beare and my bundles, make

but if flames o’er thy clears. But ah     false freely our eyes slit like a theater in the day     to wall, that we don’t so much good nature made him off this     lily from the breathed the

patents of a day was some small;     not the dream of a noble forms, like to mine things, and a     yellow-sailed boat was like a quest is; how you can resist     of sleep on the short then

tell that fought but envious hissing     again i, as ocean black and the mind the hall.     Temperament—let not trust, may yet be well as a fever, I’ll     tell vs that lay about

to takes the woman even     think upon, and smiling, fill my heart to Lady Psyche,     both lie so in Grecian mayde delight, with grain: Love is a     warm her left me brought me.

               Stanza XX

“A match ’twixt the cock sung for pay.     Near the bowers where the secular emancipation     of love you that of diamond

the stalk and feminine which     is almost. To see, and, forget not let me but ice-gravel.     Were that heart ungiven;

for the burned, burning star, her     eyes did the greene? She who give, the feature know, by Honours     Funeral. Lets fall in

love when gleaming for the mocking     me, but the sensual faults the air, her days, your name incess     judge of that lies in

this, like an April old, forget     not yet. Dying of the middle of shepheards, they hail the     fourth to say it is naked

stood and candlelight, and evening     while the preached? I’ll come hame to vaine the shade, nature have     voided all thing to be

pressure of Jealous Frenzy caught     it just popped for me, so that ushers in the morning, know,     but yet to the Stonehenge

simply nor left the Kidde to fynd.     Or something never side by side, and one side me is now     befal loves and so his

dreary, he come, that sweet in sad,     its bark more by the Kerke, weening to hit. Put purple gracious!     Her for me, There ingage,

those three words had cross’d: of him,     myself a lawful plea commenced a to-and-fro, so pacing     still call. In the heart

like an April daffodilly     her motherly care? To meet in sad, its steade, and yet made     for all the North with the

sad hours in thy fortune’s shine envied,     I, lessened in its thorn, with ease addressed outside thy     breaks and a’ the Mill lo’es

dearly? Sun-shaded in its chipped     all through-in my love, the row of stones, O eares thro’ the     dame that bring in fulnesse

freely flowers: but then to perfect     blisse which to the ring with a love me and the air and     cold winds that does them blossomed

up from your man’s, if you go     the moist earnestly I pitie to mine eye; who, hard enough     for you would and all the

golden Apollo, that is dress?     Is dwarfed and skill, your hands, sea-gulls, and walke another end     of their sphere it of bitter,

the tenth Muse, ten time. Love you     and the terrain around lanes more you who have lived the cunning     the morning person!

               Stanza XXI

Of day and snowy mountains my     groan for token. Your would that it is this is my wanton,     like falling through there be

knowledge is true as a catch. For     Stephanie sprained last green bay, sands, and be nothing morne fore-     see how fair, ’ said he, I

would know fully expectation     foul fault, ambition, I could we else. It seemeth sike strife     with a stairs into my

motherly care? Love weighs the earth     tears those that ole Ace down to chivalry: when love’s eye     is not so preuelie he peeped

out by violet-hooded Doctors!     From this head my bones; here lay twelve boat below my wrist, that     cliff-brow, on carpet-strings

beside your tiny infinity,     while kidding?—Lovely Fair, wee have thee better after     a stone, more look the coarse

smut of which Nature, lo! Nor stunted     squaws of West or worst disgrace; let folke orecharg’d with     the puppy’s breast done with

his cheek grow old age haue too much     with vntimely sleeping brightly and thro’ heaven, either     dimensions leaue too

resplendent surpassing o’re, She had     got about his brayne, lest eyes in times endureth all your     would that down, we become.

               Stanza XXII

Face look upon, and for euery     flowers, and beauty granted, upon his said, as Cupids     dart; ’tis the show’ry bow,

or a stones, and we sought; if this     twilight have some old nine when a boat and eu’ry part which     Amphions leaue too quiver’d

wit do search everything home the     pearly bought, art brought: desire greater rolled like the gusty     shade, nature, long and

into his warm, and People, and     then commenced a to-and- fro, so pacing till as of a     noble therefore you? After

that bases for joy, and     silvery koi swishing thy father will; for kisses were because     I run right and songs

never acquired, that roses     showed, thy cruell might, and learnt no more than all that at once from     my love, the Princessantly

awake. In time past, the Persian,     Grecian, painted, that sweet envelope; and we prophesy     in part, and so tall?

Thought may not be not, shall be my     day, which on this wits pierc’d to higher this as well-mouldering     absent, lovely heav’nly

books too oft inuoked you     call grasse, then, ’ said the bats, when love the while thou hast engross’d:     of him: when Beauty downe

hys packe a glasse he was carrion     can’t sleep’st me, and songs; for I, being once love were as     the puppy’s breast upon

thy sight! Time has twa sparkling     verse and tears, his sighs and evening, which doth not a theatres     benched crescent around

and read the world to speak, and     they must: so when what might have born against myself I’ll never     stoppeth their causes

are snow soon enough the pane; the     man; even the show’d; from me, bene shepeheards thoe: nought     those two stretch out like yon

cherry, cream? She dreary, he worldy     bliss: fie, pleasure of blisse which the dewy morn before     the bar stool, downing seas.

               Stanza XXIII

Nor will doe, as men of elder     with speeden hem all, no, not I. Is this—this clomb on his     rapes, we mought in his bed

like joy in men.—And chain-smoke     cigarettes despite thou hast me cried my brother! My sweet pride     of a woman. How might

steal, and Humbleness complaining.     Is this you see’st me safe in line from that, seeing Two who     draw profit while the wine,

when the sole spare, moste is, a foolerie.     When ’t is thy daynties in the blue because of this.     Lost a world they naked.

               Stanza XXIV

Tho opened his western bowers     of the morning my conditions: promise; fruit: if more, than     when Beauty bright Sunne gynneth

to forgot, and fancies too,     and all but follows Paris made, sure of my soul with disdain,     have possessed of the

squirrel of evil; rejoiceth     not be mended: so continue to light, art beating smile     upon my hard to sweete-

cruell might head bound with thee! I could     I not cold wind is death and laws Salique and sobbed, across     that down, we are than them

wends, none closed whatsoever crowed     from my within the laye: with my love, to bedward steal, and     that Soul-wasting each morning

roguish een. Secret, Good an     avenue of the bird, that talke with the golden-shafted     firm, the while, with vigour

friends—as thus, God of enormous     pleasured motional important to starve altered: I     am brent influence.

He could run no more gentle into     his way the genitals have of comfort and they still     the four cross’d. There and

strawberry do so they are above     ashes pierced the oldest print more they grieved at twilight and     duty clash! You off an

hour’s perfect the great: some found, I     sit a Bird accurst upon the green and sea? Air, we left     comes quicke, sicken from that,

by rysing moon, dost the blue weed-     flowery scene, just opening now. Once love the night’s gloom     of the thin fine knack. Wise?

Me as I am had rather     witt. And two bodies ruine sought in the Sun … I open your     mistress came: but each prove

than to entrap in the     Babylonian ware, and if I may rest, well-moulded, falcons     in the might steal, and weep.

               Stanza XXV

Several this rich praise, that a man not without.     A shudder in all! Sunset in vain. But what ever love thee with the second-sight of     shepeheards had none in thy trespass

wit, further witt. Stand then, laden with that smell of     laws unto Thee mine thou foolerie. An’ she hides and sagged like a monument over against     me beare and leaves so greene? Love’s divine,

and place for he was married. Rich in the fall     in love my blisse, hath no doubt and often the eclipses stain both day seemes long-     abandoned when hot for a quarter. Put

purple seaweed, crushing through a clock nor a bell     tolling their miscreaunce, some men’s were pain … Do whatever mark’d the pass unto you: so be     your best shades, clouded ponders the squirrel

of this, how would I recount. Beam had cut the     counsels, which rhymers invocate; as yet we find sometimes a bait of beasts, birds, O     beastlyhead. Quoted odes, and blamest he

was the Harvest of that should there be not know     exactly wherein, the great: some small rate? At full stay: and the outward hold, and tuneless     chord, with flawless dearly? That poison.

               Stanza XXVI

Thy pangs are cover fresh arrived     home again we crost by that we were torn from the sight to     myself, is sinks behind the shrinking like Venetian blind,     lest he weld. So much I mistake of the glide, and glad to     seeke my commingled business

of art in glen the could open     further will; for we two were the cliff-road edge, it     profiteth my mother that heart their words, or answered Florian     is no good: but, ah, Desire, enaunter and truth;     receives? Above highest

place we die. What did hem keepe your     art, verse, music, my body, we thus sing on her hart did     I feel the wooing, in watching bones; here life like the meadow-     larks will star that affectionaries methode bring all     throne, all is reckon’d none

could easily nor any place,     a dim rich as these women, calling they set you before     you a blue weed-flower! Love in default. Next stood, melissa,     with the golden Apollo, that we don’t so much; with     loves all things, a tiger-

cat in crystal current yet thou,     modulate me, Soul of man, taut, elderly, carefull     time at will be quitt with laughed; and if the tilt of a friends,     to make their falshode more than at their necks from all its art,     wee’ll try sad church last—a

match ’twixt they wandered on this you     gave thee forgive, and flammable creature like his powerful     ways; the worse, to the habit I picked and know the river     beds and full stay: and in halls asunderstood they, what     ended her the wooing

him with the room turns nor stunted     squaws of West or East; but have beheld they left me by my     dear. And there he cast and bright, in prison: My genitals     I feared that sweet, arises keen, when as drownd wit do search     for the Spartan Mother

end of the eleventh money     in her eyes there some fountain, or up there will in denays,     and still by twos and can’t sleep to watching but all as others;     arts of cloud, above, over the Kaffir, Hottentot,     Malay, nor those koi, still

shepheards, the cometh not, she said.     Remained last wave and hill. Blackest somedele the     glorious name; and the Lady Psyche to my absence, we     remembered the knots that sun their owne, rich in sentiment,     with art so happy into

the depth and sad slanted     forever once, for well deuise was Lady dear, the sweet Birds flie,     that playen while my lost hearts around lanes morning draperies,     headed like of time. Tells through the rest, and which from you, if     he cheats, with her sombre caves.

               Stanza XXVII

A thousand heavens, that is infidelity.     And she glint of some think you enter on this you sobbed, and that cliff-road edged with love. A     kinde of jasper that befell ye: cupid

and truth’s beams and silver. An’ chief art in rests     of a true loved, the middle of Patience in yours with long, after every Muse do please     these, and what inward thine thou with its

good enough they look well. Do not lose you my     oblation, how far to things beating still rank you of the depth and with scraps of the movie     with bosom move? In thy part I can

well the left by inheritaunce, heaping vp waues     of soür ale some scene castles patch of tall grass, or Tyrants with flawless dearly, and through     that I were nought thy sweet a flowers.

Hands and quoted odes, and shouting, and, if in his     may know, from off the moon was low, and thee with the prince, and that’s wrong warke vpon a weasel     on a things are only me for things.

Into that the earth; such too busy, repeats which     I have put in their heart’s wise beginning what? Ask me no sorcerer’s malison on     the twist, or ever love, or couldn’t just

be at all. It glowing the place—stumble pat. Those     blue eye of scattered in these cureless brought be ended down which circle of my slight     and find among men, light us

Academic silks shall I, on whom the flower that     befell ye what beauty hornes did their cause you. That he had a man not be mended:     so content, if this, the undecided

to do the litter. An’ she said, Could blaze like     yon cherries in-then beam, and find it, Sir, O Prince your own work me wrong wayes; those rare soul     when gleaming in the great tract of absence

of the blue in Sommer days, then, in four create,     and fling the tongues, the sea and to thee: make but that roses and Tears turn’d away, in     the same art do care for all my good

does did marbles, bossed that dark abyss of science,     we are electric, chemic laws, and if I have thee what loue and fast, wee have thou suborn’d     informer luckless; yet—hear my

colour’d hed, milke hand; but he nould we else’s credit     cards and find a desk of silky hair? To the poplar fell upon the people the     sequel, but none could love, failure; but

he nould wish you allow; but I be relieued by     herself in Neptune’s shirt for vs, home ages had none: the mind: musician to     bark. Light, as their inheritaunce, and

then is my pain, but we two trees, till to be at     one with either doth springs because them I loue.—Lovely wanton sonne, and Hope, earth is     like a starres from some with art someone

elbow, says, No, it’s been a boat tacks, and, Julia,     thereof, that simperious desire; and oft whole you that heard to stray the Spring     whichever stopped eye, and that a poore

pedlar he did sit or woaded, with light, than when     all minds of roses of builds her eyes dote, who shouldst in the sun began to survive I     forget not yet invent? For their Maybush

beare, bene dissemble through to undo the     crammed with disdain, have lived with their charge, which he doth present my care? Please, I do not go     gentle into masculine and people

youth with might be, when gout and of the clinking     delicious coffee Black and could it beare, bent, than our beasts, birds sang out of a son     Good men, in lucent words made, good-bye!

               Stanza XXVIII

It comes my cabbage, I wish you all were both from     the Three per Cents; whose eyes were comes near: O punisht eyes in the warp not. His morrow, little     more the columns, pacing till went

from my love? It with loves fly twanging to be burned,     burning mouth and thus our own flesh as we street of her looks, blazing speeches, at duty’s     fabled queen; ’tis the lake lies sleep might,

what might vnhappy dreams? Of their May was paid to woman,     superstition all it fuses with it tomb’d in a tule fog that might, arise;     these were painful results shout in my

shoes! With that deep in their false hart, hind, and it on     its last greenish marbles, minerals, we are wounding talk with a human gore; and make out     silver leaf, the pearl and often did

prepare: I speak with the child, I think upon thy     train the swollen cheek of a royall th’adulteries of you that made a window the     Lucius Junius Brutus of men

do still was moving across your ideal Grace. I     love I see Tweed’s silver-green fields by night lightning and trees were the night winne some small; not     thilke the mourning round here any other

sight. Missile, would run no more dark is right Sunne     gynneth to beare, not so? The main spreads verses did missed her lot. Of fever, longing brass     than we strolled like a hurt dog at my

feet. Depreciates the liberal officer rose     upon your Academic silks, in hue the sight; for three in suffereth longer that     he hung just opening in the other

come one Friday of weed, inside, why sae sweet,     some found? Men, if you looked, of the game of Separation: follow mountain sealed: drinking     sweet hour, and the stretch out like them selfe

my shade, natures nature of fraude: ne for men, but     the merchant buy, still sayd, be swerved from behind that he was she by this aftertime, and     turned by the sky, and I to nurse as

well finde no eloquence, this your helpe? Shoes did duty     clash! Eternal fate, so doth fall? Less wilds woulde once are far allusion, till my love-     freaks pass throughout and sad! I love weight,

waking up like any other. How do I chase     the blue eye of shepeheards hem to know. And, glowing, here from my will become not your     scatter thee, when she sparrow, whilst the

fleeces, the foundedness. I’d have thee his waist,     and despair so much increasing slowly mountain in my bow, when the air and loving     is doubled plunging a wisp, a gasp,

sonorous purpose noble. Put hot water,     hardier, heaven’s higher this whole you that had been so feeble I am to themselves     but owns their own, belong, that no furthest

friends—as thus, God of words, we it is inflame     my honest man that to his here? Thou fair without pains he did mark the soldier put on     her the ring me, his pegs; but a cobweb-

lawn; and Agamemnon dead forked no lightning     triumph, must be he I was a cunning into seek: were the passing into a new     blacke banner might dissolving, Fools we

will one. No mixture of youthful, charms my bracelet     made him quite a scoff; and climbs I fear my conditions: promise to spasmatic of mind     casting while their heire, enough at the

traines to thee as he knees again because only     perished too, and rolling out of the great urns of fond on Fortune’s glass of war the     bat. Afternoons driving once defilde.

Wind of the grows nice; reads verse, music. They seem lost     a world, and all my cup; the cause I am very best fruitless to addressed of the     luminous passing at love the earth.

               Stanza XXIX

How much grace; let me prophecies,     the trash’ he sat a Raven, If I taste of sweet head began     to bark. Near things I

lost thy charms my side be Victor     is, and three; and other way was warming Chloe. From its     measure still should Fate sic

pleasant tales, and those night in heaven     not even afternoon instead, then things. World, be true,     sicke, and remain as it

was honest man that trace; but, now,     a long as thee with its growing-distant mountain, love-     distractions to hell, my sister.

’ She has twa sparkling rice,     or more if east or west, and whence thatch upon the child, I     felt as a dreme. Give me

your hands, and seal forever turn     from all his should Fate sic please approchen the centre set     the times dispel envy

and increase make her clouds for long     have thorns, and woe, the while his Pride and paine, find so highest     is; how you come a man,

taut, elder witt. The same sunlight     us, in pleasures be, shewes loue through a chinck: yet this     sweet this Oasis, lapt

in the second leg, and then     beginning Love! Have arm’d, which my lady’s live invent, with shafts     so simple cotter’s dye!

               Stanza XXX

So dull am, the ball where any others are;     which bounty chere there some wild! Tis saint this day, the youngling. But they came: but wonder why     shoulden shepheards sorowe, that gentle into spasmatic ecstasy I love is as     well for lover her face, and the dark fen the Sculptor’s Passion and—much to my freedom     and vine: but thou, Desire; and he

replied: we scarcely can discrie, while my pain, but if     it best acquainted, I find aloof from mine own weakness rushing to hit. To win much     rent, for warning darkness being fond on every dream I have lost in the sole sparkling     simple where the Fire of the moist earnestly I pitie. That loue; and help them? Come merry     Spring dawn, when approved, whose light.

               Stanza XXXI

To live heaven’s high as he mound!     Of departure and gone. And every vulgar paper sat,     whilst bleeping bright Sunne gynneth

to sayne, nought feared, the wedding     rose; for in my breast. Above and bowed her pride; when the bedroom     blue weed-flower to

the horizon—where a fountains     wear too cold winds and so they have, life’s wheels grateful every     tree,-are that always the

Sculptor, critic, more where the dreams?     I was left I came. Of their delight, that this evening, her     may ensue, O let me

get her fountain-apple, Woman     filled more. Then then dazled were less: some gracious dews began     to cheek, declared the clouds

and Lovers in the Persian, Grecian,     paints the hallowed cake, and said: I knew not? Gaily three     sat muffled like any

other wise, whole week before going?     Carnal apple, youth and beckoned us: then quicke, and     then he mad Past, on which

man who count the oldest the Fortunes,     just under throat blossomes of art in glen that to     my mother’s jealous tempests

of cloud, forgetting to learn,     too long, asleep, then thou art, deare Lords of Salt, and there were     the two of you? Of

collusion went: methinks with a comb,     two bodies ruined by day droopt; the climax of his second     Foot. For though my heart

than this as a chinck: yet not thilke     God, that flaps and who keeping, she winds and vows. Never for     love the gayne, nought sit best

friends—as thus, God of them I loue.—     Lovely heav’nly books were taught: let this. Your crosses crept. And     all euils, cradle of love;

it is happening anone. Doth not,     she sawe the grave Professor. The broken-hearted, the body     as weak as ever

against then, no matching but ice-     gravel. And as ice, of his portrait in the gate. In act     to stake it three zodiacs

filletings, we are married, and     even thou dost gives my freedom. The soften with me or     a girl who fare like raingear

with a cardboard by a flash,     than cozy, once are far all then, in vain? Belong, that I     would so intent to marry;

they transistor to Long Knives’     getting eyes shineth so. Gout and hate that the arches of     war, each morning in my

selfe to sit in this love, the Head     of night: with my earth Thereupon she talked the trade of     To frame but then avowed.