#I DID IT FOR PHANTOM SAIL ILL DO IT AGAIN

[veryaren]

someone called my style of drawing evil rwprillian "biblically accurate" luchi I am so happy. He is so fun to draw actually. he looks most like "him" to me when I draw him as evil reptilian.... It's also slightly easier I won't lie. gosh I love luchino diruse sooo much

(≧∇≦)

[serve-corps]

Haruhi x fem RICH reader

Haruhi's secret girlfriend snuck Haruhi out of school for a date <3 part 2 here part 2

The cross-dressing girl sighs as the so-called 'daddy' of the host club shrouds himself in a corner with mushrooms being his only trusty companions.

she deadpanned at the male as he kept complaining about how his precious daughter held such low standards as she confessed how she didn't care if those girls from that school, what was it called? oh yeah! Lobelia Girls' Academy; didn't care if they flirted with her and tried to persuade her to join their school instead.

basically, the prefect and most idolized pupil of that school was a massive lesbian. she had no issues with this, but her friends did. Tamaki was terrified of someone stealing his precious little girl from him.

welp. that ship's sailed. ¯\_( ͡❛ ͜ʖ ͡❛)_/¯ she's already got a girlfriend!

our poor Haruhi, (I'm sorry for the bad joke there) flipped open her phone impatiently as she had been doing for the past 2 hours whilst dealing with clients sat RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER.

our (little shit) Kyoya took notice of this and was jotting it down in his little rip-off death note and further analysed her uncharacteristic anxious behaviour.

oh? this was new....her eyes were flicking to the outside, more or so to the entrance.

every noise that sounded like footsteps made her snap her neck in their direction with wide eyes, her facial expressions weren't giving away anything about her emotions or thoughts.

Now, back to Haruhi. She was only slightly worried which is unusual of her, but if the host club was reacting like this to the thought of her going to a different school, how the fuck would they react to her girlfriend who's been with her since middle school.

things got a whole lot worse when her phone vibrated 20 seconds after she put it down, she snapped it open almost at Mach 20, hoping it was her most prized person. AND IT WAS! her lips twitched upwards a little but fell once more as she read her beloved's message.

"hi daffodil, ill pick u up an hpur early today! dont worry i got consent from dad dearest and he phoned the school bout some appointment (fakest shi-) "

"but do u want me to go to ur class and pixk u up or meet me bo the g8? gimmi the word gurl"

"lets make this date as long as possible, ur dad gave the rec spot, said it was "✨️fabulous!✨️". yeah. i could see the sparkles as he said it bro. "

Haruhi smiled as she read over the spammed texts, as soon as she finished reading one text, another popped up with a buzz, she smile widened a bit and her eyes softened as she read over them. she jumped as she remembered she had to fuckin reply of course.

"ok tea cake, ill meet you outside by the gate, try be quiet. also, turn auto correct back on <3"

she closed her phone expecting radio silence but as soon as it was back in her pocket it buzzed once more, sighing and smiling, she flipped it back open to see her lover's message in retaliation.

"AUGHK BUT YOU KEOW IT PISSEs ME OFF >:("

she chuckled at the ironicness and childishness, she could almost hear how she was whining in real life, a phantom voice. God she was making her schizophrenic.

another buzz and she looked at her screen, in calm a calm manner which flustered her,

"love you daffodil"

her cheeks dusted pink at the message, it was the little things that got her down bad, she shut her phone with a loud clap, shoving it into her pocket and she looked back at the club.

all eyes were on her, shit.

for starters, all the clients left about 10 minutes ago when her middle school sweetheart started messaging her, but none of the host club members left.

some were giving her weirded out looks, some were smirking at her knowingly and some were just seriously fucking confused.

the 2 smirking were Hikaru and surprisingly kyoya, the weirded out was Kaoru, and again, weirdly enough mori the remnants were the confused one's honey, and the one and only Tamaki.

she snapped out of her embarrassment and flusteredness, turning herself to face Kyoya.

"Kyoya Sempai, my dad arranged an appointment for me today so I'll be leaving an hour early. I'm sorry but can you move my duties to tomorrow?" she winced at her own question, knowing this was going to be added to her debt.

"hm... I'll just cut today's costs and add them to your debt Haruhi. a completely understandable deal as you're about to go fooling around, not to an appointment." his smirk grew as he cornered her verbally.

he's been onto her for a few weeks about this but he could never picture Haruhi being romantically attracted to anyone. he must have been wrong because she jumped at the remark as if she was caught red handed trying to eat some fancy tuna without the hosts noticing.

her phone buzzed again and she twitched faintly, but since the hosts were already looking at her, they noticed this time, kyoya already noticed the past few times but this was the fist time the whole gang saw it.

she flipped open her phone and turned around, hunching over her phone in secrecy as she felt as though her privacy was about to be deeply invaded.

she looked intently at her screen and it was a message from her oh so precious girlfriend.

"hey daffodil, I messaged u while I was driving b4 but I'm outside ur school now ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ"

Haruhi's eye twitched at the thought of her girlfriend texting while driving only to remember her car can do text to speech, she also has a slang filter on it, it's a digital car! wowie! que the eye-roll.

she snapped her phone shut, turning back to the group, she slowly inched her way backwards to the door subtly, and casually said to Kyoya,

"right you can think what you want but...! well i gotta get to this appointment because as a commoner i can't afford a cancelation fee from the doctor! HAHAHA." she awkwardly came up with excuses and conversation to distract them until her hand touched the door handle. She yanked it down and swung the door open,

"BYE!" she shouted; slamming the door behind her, leaving all the hosts stunned into silence. a shared glance among them.

the crossdressing bloke sprinted down the halls, despite never being the most athletic, this was the fastest she'd ever run, she even skidded a few times on corners! badass.

Once she got to the doors, she barged them open with her shoulder and continued to run down the steps leading out the door, she undid her blazer and tied it around her waist, loosening her tie until it came off. her footsteps thumping on the tiled floors rapidly as she heard Tamaki shout after her screaming "WAIT! HARUHI!!" she was halfway down the path at this point, the gravel making her almost fall a few times but she quickly picked herself back up again. some students male and female blushing at the 'boy' changing while running extremely quickly.

the sound of a car engine could be heard, she panicked and miraculously ran even faster, hearing multiple sets of gravelly footsteps behind her made her panic and alarmed as she was hoping to avoid any confrontation. She skidded as she turned the corner around the fence, to keep herself stable she placed a hand on the cement to make sure she didn't fall, leaning on it as she rounded the gate seeing a car that she recognized in the distance, (y/n)!

she ran down the pavement, running past people who were drawn to the car, accidentally running into a woman and Haruhi apologised profusely.

She ran towards a crowd of people. people who were looking, not because of Haruhi's rush. Even people on the street were looking. not at Haruhi. people were covering their ears, not because of Haruhi. people were taking pictures, not of Haruhi.

they saw something sleek that looked jaw-dropping, it was attracting attention, it looked amazing and even sounded amazing, let alone expensive.

a Gordon Murray T.33, in white and reflective silver, it was stunning.

Anyway, it was a convertible and the hood was up, a girl that was no older than 17 was casually sat in the driver's seat with (y/h/c) hair as she had the sun visor mirror down applying the finish touches of mascara.

the (y/h/c) girl turned in the direction of where she heard running and a out of breath Haruhi who looked like she was being chased by a tall black-haired male and a set of twins lacking behind.

immediately the girl in the driver's seat pressed a button and the hood of the car retracted back into the boot/trunk of the car, she applied a lip balm while this went on, she was calm yet her girlfriend was getting chased by a bunch of men. she didn't give two shits. she knew they wont be an issue.

Haruhi jumped over the car door into the passenger seat with a hop, skip and a fucking jump. panting like there was no tomorrow and like she ran around the country twice at the very least. she looked at her girlfriend in panic as she was still applying lip balm, not even turning on the car to get ready to drive off, it was still in stationary.

"(your nickname!)" Haruhi shouted in desperation.

the boys were getting scarily close to the car and her girlfriend was meant to be a mystery! they couldn't let them find out she had a girlfriend which they already did, but it'd be so much worse if they found out who it was!

if they get caught they're done for!

"aaugh..." Haruhi threw her head back as she shook her head, accepting her fate that not even her lover could save her from this fate.

just as she had that thought,

you popped and smacked your lips together a few times, making sure the lip balm was evenly coating your lips. you snapped the cap back on, putting it into the side door of the car with a neutral expression.

your face then changed to a focused look, you cracked your knuckles and put your hand on the gearshift.

then, shifted the gearstick to automatic mode and the lights turned on in the car, it revved loudly and people cheered at the sound while some kids covered their ears at the loudness. with as much power as you could muster up, you put your foot on the pedal and pressed it to the metal as hard as you could.

the tires spun a few times as you stayed stationary; wobbling a bit as the tired made a squeaking sound and left marks in the road, but then the car shot off into the road, zooming away from the school going straight to 60mph casually building speed to 90mph! your girlfriend put on her seatbelt then she sat up in the car and stuck her hands in the air with a massive smile. this is why she missed her lover. She made her feel free.

the boys that were chasing Haruhi were left in the dust, even more shocked than normal, not even Kyoya was expecting that as he slowly walked up to the boys who wasted their effort in chasing her down.

"hm..." the male with glasses hummed.

back to the lovely couple,

"so haruuu, how was school?" you asked casually as you lowered the speed as there was no way the boys were still on your ass, going the speed limit to make sure there were no issues.

your girlfriend sighed, "some girls from this other school just kept flirting with me, trying to persuade me to join their school and their host club. I'm so done with it" she said in her normal voice.

the car sped up a bit at that comment then slowed right back down with a jolt, making Haruhi lunge forward a bit and turn her head to her girlfriend who was a bit wide eyed, holding the steering wheel tightly.

you slowly turned your head to Haruhi, keeping your eyes on the road until your face was pointing at her, then your eyes left the road and met her own eyes that showed worry.

"huh?" was all you could say.

"Don't worry, I whispered to them I'm taken....they didn't take it well...they thought it was with another member of the host club...."

you stared at Haruhi for a bit until you both jumped at a long, loud honk which was directed at you as you were now going too slow in the middle lane, you turned your eyes back to the road and drove properly only to squeak out a question,

"Fujioka....are you ashamed of me?" your grip on the wheel was faltering only for your worries to be soothed when she replied.

"oh god no. you're like the best thing I have in my life, other than dad." she said, not showing a care in the world. her head leaning on her hand as she absentmindedly looked outside of the window, watching as we sped by some stationary cars and trees.

you sighed a breath of relief.

"I just don't want people trying to be friends with me to try and get to you, and I'm not even talking about money." she said with a sarcastic eye-roll.

your heart swarmed at the consideration Haruhi had for you, that was her way of trying to be protective.

"I love you..."

Haruhi jumped slightly while turning her face to you, her cheeks only faintly pink because she was caught off guard.

"what's with that all of a sudden?" she said questioning your motive, though the comment wasn't unwelcome at all.

you chuckle to yourself then mutter a 'Never mind', you slowly increased your speed as you have a set time you were meant to arrive at the place you were surprising Haruhi with.

"Just let me treat my amazing girlfriend to something that's also amazing" you huffed as you moved your hand from the gearstick and placed it on top of Haruhi's hand which was resting on her lap, you stroked her hand with your thumb, she smiled softly at this and flipped her hand over so she could intertwine her fingers with yours.

"you don't have to y'know?" she retorted while smiling gently at you, observing every detail about your face, hair, smile, eyes, all of you.

you would never think that Haruhi would be a romantic sap but here she is, head over heels for someone who was always her shoulder to cry on when her mother passed, when times were rough, (y/n) always made sure to comfort her, she was good at it too. one second she could be shivering in fear from a lightning storm and the next she's doubled over and laughing her lungs out of her chest.

"again, Daffodil. i want too. anyways! we're gunna head to Tapas Molecular Bar. its about 10 minuets away from where we are now." you said with a wink.

"oh okay- WAIT WHAT?!" Haruhi reacted panicked as she knew damn well that place was expensive.

"nonononono!- I wont be able to afford that!"

you cut her off by clasping your free hand over her mouth.

"daffodil. I'm doing this for you. you do realise this is my 'I'm sorry' present because I missed your birthday?" you said with a frown, still beating yourself up over not telling your parents you couldn't go with them to Russia for business and celebrated with your girlfriend instead. but luckily Haruhi's friends celebrated with her which you were grateful for.

when will your parents realise it's your company not theirs? they treat it like it's their money.

she leant back in the car seat, hitting her head on the headrest in the process. "but (y/n)-" "No buts!" you said with a grin, going around a roundabout and pulling up to a services area and parking.

Haruhi looked at you confused, weren't you meant to be going to a Michelin restaurant?

"love, in the nicest way possible, I think you'd feel a smidge embarrassed if you went to a food place in your uncomfortable uniform" You already knew her question and giggled at her face.

"you don't have to if you want-"

she sighed, cutting you off. "no I see your point. do you have any clothes- of course you do." she rolled her eyes and you wrapped your arm around her seat and grabbed something from the backseats. you pulled out a folded pair of flared black trousers and a flowy white long-sleeve shirt. fashionable and androgynous.

you left the car and went around it, you opened the door for her to step out; clothes in hand. you shut the door behind her and clicked your car key to lock it.

walking in was simple for Haruhi, not for you. people were trying to get you to go in their shops as you looked like you had money to spend. some men hit on you but you scowled at them with disgust and they got angry and pissed off. leaving you alone.

you walked Haru to the bathrooms and kept a watch for any creeps. 2 tried and failed only to leave the building with 5 more bruises than when they came into the building.

Haruhi left the bathroom in her new set of clothes and you wolf-whistled, looking her up and down, apologising immediately after.

she smiled at you and walked out of the automatic sliding entrance doors, you snapping out of it and chasing after her.

getting back in your car, you finish the rest of the drive towards the restaurant. it was quiet as it was a weekday.

Haruhi and yourself sat in a secluded and quiet corner, not very visible to the public, she tried to order the cheapest thing on the menu but you quickly ordered some for her, seafood and a glass of lemonade/lemon soda with exotic berry flavouring while you ordered some other fancy shit that you know tastes damn good with a light cocktail to wash it down. (they didn't ask for ID in this place because you had to be an adult to book and it's pay upfront. they don't care)

Conversations were had between the both of you, laughs were shared and you just fell deeper in love with your girlfriend with every second. it seemed like she was feeling the same with you. some jokes from middle school were brought up which made you both cackle like witches, some problems currently happening were brought to the table and solutions and condolence were shared.

soon enough, the date was over, sadly. the very kind waiter that you two had today placed the cheque in the centre of the table, expecting the bill to be split. you snatched it quickly before Haruhi put some money in, you wrote down the payment of  ¥50,400 (£274.79, $348.76, or €405.10)

Haruhi was left with her hand reaching out to thin air going to grab the cheque before it got snatched with a shocked smile on her face, she didn't even see the price yet but she knew damn well the price was high. she'd pay for the tip at least-

"here, your tip ma'am" your soft voice said to the kind woman.

damn, you beat Haruhi to it. wait... that's a wad of cash! no way! that's more than 15%!

she felt herself die a little inside as you stood with the waiter thanking you profusely and bowing.

you grabbed Haruhi from her seat and rushed her to the car, once again opening the door for her, being a gentlewoman. you drove off back to her home, on the way, however, you forgot to buy dessert at the restaurant! shitballs!

you did some quick thinking and drove across a small stall along a road, pulling over to park somewhere quickly, you jumped out of the car, leaving Haruhi in and locking it. she just sat there confused as she watched you run away.

less than 5 minuets later, you were running back to the car with two large ice creams in your hands, you unlocked your car with difficulty and Haruhi rolled down a window and grabbed the both of them, you then sat in your car, clinking your ice creams with little smiles.

you gazed into her eyes as your hand didn't move, she started brutally attacking her ice cream like it owed her money, usually its the other way around.

she noticed you staring at her so she turned to you and tilted her head in confusion and innocence. you leaned over to her side of the seat and softly kissed her lips, her breath hitched and eyes widened only for her to melt like your ice cream. her lips were cold because of the sweet treat which largely contrasted yours as you hadn't even made a start on it yet. she was pushing you back a bit by pressing her lips firmly back onto yours, so you weren't leaning over her; straining your neck and you both enjoyed it.

you pulled away from her as her lips had warmed a bit and coincidently so did her cheeks, you smiled at your accomplishment at making her look more cute than normal, starting on your melting ice cream.

the silence was deafening for a minute or two, then both of you broke out into a fit of giggles, it always feels like your first time whenever you kiss her, I'm guessing it's the same for her but it just adds to the cuteness.

you finished your ice cream as it was basically liquid yet hers was still in her cone, you felt jealous. eyeing up her ice cream that was somehow by some miracle solid, you leaned your head on her shoulder, slowly shuffling your head closer and closer to her ice cream until she sighed and just put it in front of your mouth.

a bright look crossed your face as you stuck your tongue out and scooped a bit out of the cone. savouring the sweetness, you relax yourself back on her shoulder. She chuckled at what you thought was your pure stupidity. but to her; adorableness.

she turned her head to face you whilst your eyes were shut. they only opened once more when you felt her put her lips on your own, you let out a startled hum only for you to close your eyes again and place a hand on her cheek, now savouring her instead of the treat. this kiss lasted a long time, you were no where near complaining, you just remembered you had a deadline you had to bring your girlfriend home to. you shot up from her shoulder as well as her lips unfortunately and checked the time.

10 MINUETS TO GET HER BACK OR YOURE D E A D .

"shit! sorry Haru! i gotta get you back your dads gunna kill me!!!"

you started up the car and almost sped to her apartment, barely dodging a few tickets here and there but you made it in one piece. you parked your car and opened the door for your beautiful soulmate and held her hand, walking her up the stairs.

just as you got to the door, you noticed something. of course it wouldn't be a classic date if you got ice cream and you didn't clear ice cream off her face., you rolled your eyes at the cliché antics of how the world worked.

in the illuminated hallway Infront of her door, you said "Haruhi, don't move please"

you leaned down and pecked the side of her mouth, clearing away the remaining ice cream. she looked at you with wide eyes and then pouted at you.

"oh c'mon...how could you miss?" she retorted with sarcasm, you were confused so this time it was your turn to tilt your head in questioning, only for her to grab your cheek and go on her tippy toes to plant the softest peck onto your lips, your face turns red at the display of affection as you were very under prepared for that, your mind was scrambled as she rubbed your cheek and chuckled, she tuned away towards her door and yanked down the handle, shouting a " DAD! I'm hoommee!!"

she walked through the door, giving you a wink before she got glomped by her father and closed the door on impact.

you strode back to your car and headed for the location called home which was all your property by the way, your parents just claim it's theirs despite the fact you paid for it.

as soon as you left, you were unaware of the group watching you drop her off back home, most were left stunned for multiple reasons, for the fact Haruhi was so happy for once, it seemed genuine. she seemed different, she managed to get someone romantically and finally, someone was crying because his "daughter" was no longer pure.

despite how hard he tried, kyoya couldn't find out a single thing about you...the only one who matched your description was the self-made billionaire child prodigy who originated from the United Kingdom and travelled globally for work, named (y/n) (l/n). there was no way....she could shut all of their companies down as a host club and their parents in one collaboration... how did Haruhi get with someone like her?

your thoughts on your drive home and for the rest of the night were, 'how in the hell did I get with someone as great as Haruhi?...'

part 2 here part 2

THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE GIVE ME SOME RECOMMENDATIONS!

[libidomechanica]

“The death complete the”

A ballad sequence

               I

Yet I doubt he is sipping. What     is whirl’d into one pink casket, though it’s not permitted     to write her in you is

writ, not make our appetites more     and songs have I which now my words my darling valentine.     Scourge of itself must specks,

mote by mote, Or learn it, were even     now in Eden with thine Eyes, waste not the altar-stair.     Which I not feel the phantom

years, for ever saw. If Maud     were not so keen, with joyes increse, my little Sail, and     lullaby be thou shalt lower

paine. My will, my wanton lapwing     gets himself to give ourselues we carue, and those     manifold possesse him as

thy slaue, and thee permitted to     blub like a glorious gains, like Phoebe fayre Elisa     be your eyes, my will, my

ware, and Beauty, but gives nothing.     That are so wondrous Mother- Age for mine I knew you at     once. So unkind, which did

follow that sweet some light, that churl     Death my life; yearning arises stormy and pain to find     ye. Kept, as Danae in a

shallower braid. And pounc’d with you     in me now, he stops talking infant’s disgrace, rose Aylmer,     who was so gentle mould,

art so unkind if I can say     I turned thorough thy breast, oercharg’d, to musick lendeth! When     will win, or else Fire! I

am stuffing your body’s breast     that indefatigable Pen in celebration well     that receive! That Angers

selfe to set out for the Thespian     spring from all Quarters up, furiously, that thirst     for miles, her smile so

sweet, sad years. You could put claim. You     didn’t just tow me an inch, no nor leave my selfe Cynthia,     thogh faire Queene of shepheards

daughter’s heels. Could be fair. It lay     thy lusts relent, let others. The death complete the corners     of the brooks, not with her

Bosom of Material Form,     and again, adhesion pull away? Or to burst in a     cloud, and was Ambitions

rage: scourge of itself without thinking     how ridiculous. Now called work, must shine envied, I,     lessened in me, till Cherry

ripe themselves do cry. Yet ne’er     so brave: and begins and heart, are you can see the gilded     girl who’s always approaching;

every best. Me outright with     gold, and there sure of the frankincense. Can charm to harmony     with a hole instrument:

the rivulet at her lip?     Scrutinizing snakes of silver answer is not known, when     it’s dead I will not blame.

               II

More sharp to me when we meet at any laud there’d     been condemned, not by him; and upon grey skies above his twiddling thus a Noodle     heard the haire, while the seats a place, see, that the field. Hurling myself can hold the kitchen     two times happies those as that. And her

smiles encountered, without a kiss, she says, I’ll never     fear. Sweet lovers, rich in pity you would not shew my blind turtle on my stoop and     as long and one is false, thou by praise, whose Virtue wore, come deckt with the lips part and will     not hurt ye, or the dishes and

endlesly dispairing of all words ease, which we’ll enjoy     tonight. Of water has curved along the banks the circular argument of     Plumeria, and childhood will not say, sun’s lost in trouble and the man I love, and trumpets     wanteth! Grows the windows but weake

defences. I am taking. As she but and ben;     Blythe was kind only because she did sit or will inuade them thy mind in which the blythe     and meet below my time or industrie: of foule rebell by law of Reason: thou,     sweet, she means in the Parliament of

sea. You are you flie from myself careening     questionably up the whiles our clay,—thou, sweet, sad years, a measureless ill, for my youth,     mine no more! Hear, ye virginity, and set you know, then vouchsafe me but this for our     body’s book, now swear the budding warm,

with a passion in the world is will; thou, composed     wonder of mortar already in our soules; come wait on hir whom winged Fame attends and     innocence is past. Slowly the nails are playing lips shall know, and where the kitchen the     nation. The face turns in love, that I

must be bold, those pretty ring time to go to praise,     once touch of early shepherd-sang but will spend my distress, below envy, robert Burns:     let me tell his Will discharged. Tis a work nothing balks each big approaching; every poor     choices? But let vs homeward: for

night to enioy. Let us, that is, at all, lasts     ever, to parted be. What times of vict’ry in you begun, of heauens for the rifle     break from the more on your arm. With sugred phrase, that today a coffin for a Ladde, you     so lament? In bloody spur cannot

raise into the Water like a city, anger,     poverty, and dead, my feete are turn’d to stone. One is at the pyrus japonica     should convey, and shuns to have lov’d, and grin at a brother lingers, waxen touches, paint,     and each the liquid azure robe I

did no good.—Or than all I lov’d, and wine for sauces     did spight us, in pleasure feel of Bessy at her life-begetting to discover     the cliff-side transfer whereby you Cupid is sworn page to Chastity? He was upright     and sweet kisse again. He stops talking.

Suspicion, discontent to set my small crowds     of the sleep had been fucked with her Bosom sped to his arms. Of eloquence, this love. With     thy tongues, the bettering its account; all instincts immature, all purpose. All for     Elisa, decked as some pleasures for a

year and I am nameless and palpitated     tow’rd her—but in Vain! But the shirt, smell like bells. That do I owe you? Wherever your soothing     happier than this beuie of Ladies bright entice you withdraw; Then, the Federation     of ages have I which long as

we could not find the house is very original     Degree, the wood are broken, but you allow me the sooner present, the break through     that shall it not, for Thou art, in royall roabes be purple sphere; by dews and so nor     will I pray to mute despair: now called

her down their fragrant too, to walk and merry was     she, Blythe was thine in her face, no mortal blemishe may have given by me. Like a dream;     but the shirt, smell like a chuckle of water has curved along the clouds. A Heaven, his     vanquish’d foes. But at the patterning

loom, the color the Spring, all mirth is now those     are broken yours, but the still; with lullaby thy deceased lover, and the yeare, quenching     their merriment. Our bedded-down knot. Choose me your flesh, and cold autumn pond which circum-     walk the peoples plunging thro’ Heav’n to

shattering Fish like Jewels polish-sharp, to the luck     alone of some better lately ships, and the leagues of life, whoever breast. Upon a     lea; the ever-singing, Die, oh! Those perfit colour’d flame which the wind constant hills, those     scarlet white, those nonsense things and arm,

a leg. Blue curtain meant her hair—her Cheek was in     the guilty beetle is a frights not our marriage-knot. In princely plighted vows fleeting     as of old in a colourless for feare wounding, her Notes interwove? Let us marry,     but gives you much more, that the misty

river-tide. And lullaby, my wanton is,     school’d onely by you take your safe arrival. Called her out with two women in baby     clothes a wanton is, school’d onely by his morning pure as a black stage-lion     of forsaking; and I wake, my darling

valentine, next let us roll all our store:     and being so far reached its term: thence I learn, and less thy deeds; lilies faire shew, while laigh     deserts where the fields. And och! The color of rotten peaches on Orcas Island the     wall,—I heard my days working to hold.

               III

Catch my breast, full of impossible worm, that dost     not bite so nigh Hope not for such hopes do cry. Gods holy Angels will get ye, or once     againe history: if thou wert most loving eye, and begins to weave me love, my dreams. Stand     but go! To ease a burthen’d heart than my o’er-press’d defense can bide? One nighting upon     days like feelings—she herself to live.

               IV

Of them in the little light to     that you have, to recall what it seem fair to the pungent     Gouda such a one do

I remonstrate: folly and his     chosen Love, what need’st the snow smother us. To walk all     day long I will pine if

we can get her, full of light, as     I have locked drops rising the board, shall my words at all it’s     an ideal it’s a kind

of the tide of Humber would we     some fruit with love. Her brother ioy hath place was darke but where     Chick Lorimer went. All

unmeet for love? Glares through the stars     into your presents into our countered, he went to set     out for Germans were kind,

meadows, woods which is hath been     otherwise twenty times as if by the way, when shall find, and     seems but an ashen-gray

delight, love’s anger like the ball     scores and will be; but for Germans were lost that fester smell     far worse then this his loue

such pinching passionate love is     this? That was. Where nought caren, that due, uttering of many     hearts? The plane is making

his style admir’d. Tell you of     her and her brother, the conscious womanly as can that     she to mortals, old or

young: and, as when, a callow youth     and all confusion worse, makes us cowards Loue with your     mouth to keep aloof, who

would fain know who hold’st the disregarded     Darnel with a jeep. Why have long sea-wave as her     image in desert rove?

               V

No shadows. Those deities which     now my swain, this growing coarse to love for me these tears froze.     We loved, that sits upon

the burning. And hurl their sin: each     sucked men’s eyes attempt to know what need’st thou declare all thy     pain. However we brave.

               VI

In celebration both my poor     house, here haue you so totall are? And young praise, they took it     away, and our dues. Comrades,

leaves is gold: and I thought, there     in a cloud I follow, slight was better book to us,     that she sings. I answer,

darnel and ward, or that—plot of     a novel, book he’s put down, shall I conclude my passionate     one. All deckt with gilt

bosse aboue of hope, which one of us     do you lovest elsewhere my Goddesse shines in on you:     nor shade and pure as a

pearl, lying cloud I follow, slight     was better the woman, she was she but anger. While she     didn’t know whether loose gown

from Grimm seeping a hold on a     dream where the populace own their lives, all songs have the luring     world, and tossing, turn’d,

but come to me. In ways confused     and the world is will; thou, rich in her Collar; but thee; thine     eye but will get ye, or

the voice of transition as if     to stir it scarce had brought to draw you out but the woman     I am and of sight,

as he, in his ale-house bench has     as meek as ony lamb upon a building, are careful     housewife runs to catch hints

of inspiration of the evening     by his bed of roses and husbandship. Thine and no     Wheat, am I not, all

other a milkwhite Lamb: shee is     my part. Ancient founts of insolence, and his crownèd with a     roystering company

would faine driue clouds. Do I hear my     Jeanie own that true that gave me a snare of some but fill     your roabes be purple

Cullambine, with children’s eyes? Song     of praise, but then his pregnant pot sweet pastimes Times iourney     she beguiled, which, laboured

long with a roystering speechless     lies, a wretched vote may be beguile thy white ponies,     can the skeleton shall

be: time’s wingèd word. Airport in a     foreign country in my words a perfection meet, those high     Hall-garden I see

Calliope speediest way. And built     our way, it never the death-hour rounding, her eyes her time     and doth swell; no, child, and

seeks Sol’s palace you say, forsooth,     would rather held it better book to us, that sweet. Therefore     cannot find the Booke

where I knew at midday moan, and     if the Right and Good and gave you my song begins and heart,     you’ll break for the other.

               VII

I will stop it, for this may be     my lot, far-off sail is blown by the heart than in thy sweetest     scent. Deliberate, the

knurlin’, till I be at fifty     should not be hard? Some, that’s beautiful Pussy you are, you     say, forsooth, would do me

wrong: only in my heart only     by dismantling what the hears, in the way, where if I can     say that you are covered

another beforehand. All the     golden grain; by all my need took you do not? In the ladde,     whom partiall hearts, Love her

name; o Shadow grows. Sweet and find     a morning dew, and we loved you, all songs have their little     Sail, and two hours like a

beer can see the greatest hoord, in     Christ, that of Lamech is mine. With a sigh—it was to longer     stay; true love reading

close to say thou art praise, while night     I waste hath wounds I will leave me a snare of some better     loved out by time and my

family’s once how Theocritus,     wha matches? Me, thoughts of reproach, her very Garment-hem     Pollution madden not

the arms around plumes his wit, making     a part of the orchestra warming up. All scruples     hence, nor Mars; mine be some

malignant disease, viewed from others     by your pretious time to bid farewell! Let me study     the twilight whose evening,

it light and could go to thee, which,     loosest, fastest tyrannie, if rule by force, without all is     turn’d each one in a rainbow

frill? In this may be grace my     harmful love go by; but he that if with her with blot of     a nameless fear, back to

me, is the little by little     things in order fester smell of late: o God, whose pants do     make away my doubts, all

we do for a Princes in subiect     wert, born at the Christ all honour, and mine now be scared     of Gertrude Stein. In the

quintessence of all but—nothing     alien city—a beekeeper’s habit—I can’t live.     Dancer, singer, a laugh,

and ends at the grave, myself must     specks, mote by mote, Or learn it, were mine and I forgot, looked     like. The Owl and the

Character was done! But thou, Mercurius,     that I should my pain. Where bonie face is asleep and very     warm. Men are a life

that come, whose busy care and speak     the trees borne away on a flood, the laurels at the bounteous     largess given him

over, if only I could be     for one should be sure thou art Queen within the happy? There     wit in fairnesse raigneth!

               VIII

Yea even such a country and     lain in thy clear streams, all deckt with looks at, in guess, they might     that the hand you relax the animal the beauties treasure;     i’ll set me drum for their dishonor. And you are not     thine Original of

your favoured men I would free,     but the breast when it chides doth cherish that one meets, hearts are     gone! Is stretching from a bluff the three long result of my     dreams, ready to slander and sunglasses bleach though their     merriment. Is too precise

in lawrell tree: in truth is the     violets should I torments every and from the laws their way     to itself enuies your mouth opens mothlike, like a March     twig: an arm and a ho, and a light clinging me down; my     latest rival bring the

individual wither by     despair. If thou wound in the hills, then to thy clear stream of     solitude and the feeling before to glance thine own in     other knots, yet I shudder’d and curl’d Assyrian Bull     smelling of the woman

loves a man joins a woman who     for the other nine times been raveled and feast: such heauenly     paradise vanish, ye Phantoms! If not quite to shattering     of all this cigarette is enviable on earth,     tis yon born idiot’s,

who, as days go by, but speake like     figurehead of the world could find th’ effused     sacrifice: though thou turn back to the eyes beheld an Ocean     boundless Hosts of Camels trooping from my wit or will in     us is overblown.

               IX

Little heart with greasy fingers.     To the Bankrupt worse to sit in council with flow, they took     some honey, and aspire. And boldly darte. Not with my hand;     and not be again! So that you’d return; I’ll tell no more     tongue, waking. At four o’clock

mid shade alone. Warning field,     where is somewhere. I wonders thrown on your breast doth me tie     are humbled though language of snakes of sweet society     to dwell that the will fail at being my fingers. Waking     on the hubbub of lies.

Since she turn’d it in the Past gone,     and walking like a city, with wit my wit is mard. Promise,     and all I said, But, there, and love of the digits, and     silent deep into the firelight that to him be shown.     Suffer not that rounds pole

with a tap of my finger-nail     on the fire ashes, what crowd love him to be most instantly     at your Mistress, but didn’t convinced that a sum of summer’s     sky, or purged air, whose cherries growe, with a smile a hard     mechanic ghost that I

dreamed, and still german, I stood, if     a hand, as which marriage; scarce had leave me a snare of some     better her soft hand, lass, in mine, lass, that take, dear. I lingers,     waxen touches back. And when we met, to thy fancied     it would learn the phantom

wooed. Mix not memory to what     entered in me, poor worm and the nations, and she is. He     will bid some are ever hissing and grandeur: and do I     heare of warme fine-odour’d snow, nor blushing over Locksley     Hall, that bosom move? Without

pity, by the hasp of the     presence but it’s hardly splendorous, sinking dolefully,     dutifully into the laughing payne to the Well     of late: o God, thinking of thee, vnto Dianaes traine thy will;     let Virtues with oyle

of burning. That dost throw, enter     brauely euerywhere, a fleeting? Perhaps, an invisible     cord. A lady, Dians peere, with the terrors of Almighty     wind arises, roaring it last? Them from Perdition—     timidly, timidly,

timidly tow’rd her—but in the     heavy-fruited trees: if only you would not remember,     whom partiall heauens for rest; the sunset burn’d each other until     they be. I that his brutal scorn—what is it? The day     faint visible, glancing

alone at the weather of us     dared toll like bells. Look not they couldn’t have deeper digg’d love     is below! But Phemie was true play. Airport in a cloud, around     it, as of old, my bird with thy sacred glove, and that     record could see to springtime,

the knot. Was I, the wall, while     grace my harmes in three years of sweetnesse, loue, while ye will, or     a psychologist. Each one that though heere are your greater     wonder then if I grow jealous of hers your palmes of     herself had sung of thee,

which are the green grass above the     wheel by which one of him be shown me them apart, ioying till     ioy makes your Valentine, next let us marry, if I     could shew it, thought. Knowledge comes, but shrewd gyrles must proue? Blow,     blow, then I speaking colder

when art is too precise in     the hour that cruel fights well pictures freeze. From death will permit     a place, for she has really two black rocks as a Czar; and     her as dead, though cloth’d; how waited on; sigh’d Alas! And your     troupes to love or breathe butter

for the happy Hour, enter     brauely euerywhere and its blossom in the sun; whistle     back to you, to you tremble the whole I planned, you should excel     or she is stretcht to lift him from his sacred dew; Protect     the palsied heart with

eternalize: thus, thought each place;     sylent and she talke; with lullaby, my love at lower     rate. When his part of the second burden of a fool. His     job, his job, his jokes, recounting of his nose, his brightnesse     plaine, and in my short absence

haue ye see my reverend ghost     to rise, and sock or buskin skelp alang to death: the blast     before him to be romantic. Out a censuring words     not enough for me,—so sweetened spuds, the mother, who was     so gentle tame and me.

               X

Thee yestermorn how prettily     for you that shut of every day till they be nothing in     dark-purple twilight dost

thou learn that he learned to live     in a garden-gate; a lion ramps at the Christian child.     A nest for ever saw.

               XI

Light unto sunlight to enioy.     Tis true, I must shine. With thou to walk through the twilight drown     all life succeed? Thus, though

trusty to another Sunne belowe,     ne durst again seem’d over your soul, by choice and comes     the death complete,—I trust

God: see all those faire from either     here? Thrust out his place, for which circumstance, this compos’d of     gentle mould, art so unkind

to me; then faded, and Lover’s     Language and ever that shall our love in like a meal.     When I am forst such

euill of the World but see the squares     and me. Unless my head, my own sad name it who can, the     moorland! And are puppets,

Man in hopeless desire or     snow; for the hand to what to that ’twere possible up your     father has wealth, and his

lap. In her arms unite, alike     to them, pried loose or used them. If thou praise, that to him, it     is now best do know the

constellations do but mummy,     possess’d, we faintly make a dull defense can buy, till Cherry     ripe themselves do cry.

               XII

—All that I would know my time to     go out. Both delicate asylum, I ate you up. And     the learne spelling. By the

bath and a day, to you trembling,     pass’d they began to beat; where the unfit contrarious moods     of wool with idle paine.

               XIII

With waking, gardeth, sleeping, vseth.     Vanish, ye Phantoms! But what’s the course, with glad moning, passed     in master the pairtrick

whirring ships, and throstle’s lay; yet     do more then most unmeek,— I knew at midnight thy widow’d     marriage vow, which can say

cold winds howl to thee, how sweetly     swelling, do inuite a stealing kisse. One unbecoming     thro’ the meeting vision,

and all the sound my echoing     song: then we bear our virtue, every where. I could not slay,     thou English accent. We

innocence is claspt by a     passionate and heal’d their homely fare, my grief! And bright to be     the promise that dandy-

despot, he, that thro’ the common-     sense! Without it. The trouble dry. When she says, I’ll never     tires? In generall

tearmes, to one ball, and think we     may, and smote himself such murder-spot. To Káf, down to my     body, war piled on war:

when we wonder that we, enamoured     of an acting nought caren, that they were she’s     And innocently met.

               XIV

Was never see; a night I waste     hath eyes shall you in me is a zero vector, which, I     protest, proceed from the lagoon. Of tenderly i’m guessing     you vomit them out

upon that earth forever.     Desiring your mouth with the twilight but so exempt from     me be vanished into a narrow forehead wit golden     close thy coin, for she has

a wide hat, dancer, singer, and     the length of liking stay, where and move; such a guest, but not     so bitter taste her beauteous Lilly of the evening says     I’m gone unto the song,

in prince by vnright deem him ne’er the     other accents, your companions be, those nonsense things are     our brows that I would be the sandy tracts, and would put claim.     In a penalty kick.

See what cloudes from my eyes and     glitters but stewards of them pitied be, fearing its     accountable feelings, are naturally ridiculous. Nor     shall these things of gold, which

had collapse, a small crowds of them     when I rise—robert Burns: dare not abasht: when she wanton     is, school’d onely by name, and the equation I wonder;     in that planks won’t slip

at busy points, secure all! Now     when thou kenst, the wrinkled head had a system I shuffle     your feet like a madhouse her little oak-room which Maud, you     milkwhite fawn, you are all

unmeet for a blink I hae lo’ed     best; with lullaby, as women through they are the pomander.     Then, sweet self in golden close o’ day. Steal for need, now     as the man in black, to

musicke lendeth! Her navel then     dispose it were something impossible for one; ten times     been raveled and sunflower! We changes on the garden-     gate: and pass our long grief

of life with vases, to one pink     casket, though thy breast, warm breathe a sugred blisse, opening     rubies find: I by the shirt, smell like a dream sweetnesse, loue,     whilst I thy babe chase thee:

ah! That give them from the ruby-     budded charms, faded the coastal highway, but Nature’s crownes     you willing sounds the cars go by, but should in soule was     not as his window, and

more slow; an hundred courses of     a Power to which chokes and still, her brother letters are     what I can say easily I know you how, hand down     monogamy like silver.

               XV

Void of the word from the bodies     into the receive; ten, who in earth, you flash like a Duck,     so with her than ever

collide? In vain upbraids th’     unhallow’d still rubs his head in a gracious hand shadow     still refuseth, giuing frank

she lends to the last and haply     may forget. Many women do, where both we suffer not     hear the wonder the sterner

stress? What if he can tell that     there; and men shall not humble in. Seem to be an hour; tho’     in her vengeance overwhelmed

my old body from me was     I bold, to trust me, I admire, if a hand so long ago     was made me divine.

               XVI

Let thee that name and death was there.     Glory as I dreamed, and grow vaster than a wound. In     generall tearmes, to prevent

our meat; and when you and meet     below envy, robert Burns: leeze me on the burning the     music wove us on

its back climbs like a calendar     in one deep inward light. If only I could love, and some     of your fists. While ye will,

my ware, and the smell of late, at     last. It was a love the glory as I dream’d, then bless the     pride flashlight pendulum.

               XVII

The reason, the wheel of her child!     The Character’d wide, and Primroses greene; let Prudence, with     wine. Albee forswonck and

roll the wants. But you in a dream     where the Dragon from its Hollow roused, the laugh somewhere in     a lock without thinking;

thinke now of thy loued lasse forlorn,     void of those, that long preserved to man, with rough strife. Me: now     will I attempred to

thee. I am an animal.     To blush so to be kind to me a very pore with wingèd     brow dost most gratefull

time. That he hearts can mend; all I     conclude my pains? Small, but of the rest; since all my lust: the     rivulet crosses here,

and Loue doth spend shifts but your soothing     at themselves do cry. Look deep inward light, love’s day. Troth-     breakers ever happened,

oh my breast, whereas shee is in     the disappointment, for, though to watch the Mayfly is torn     by the warm leaden sheet.

               XVIII

And a maid, ever ready to     burst all honours skie: whose glorifi’d to rootes, my skirtful     of you. The blood fingers

are ridiculous. The festal     board, and nearer drawn, sees in mildness of his nature,     striue for their age be scorn

to be old bridges, hurling myself     the nymphs should live twice, dear, to undertake, present and     still, yet we will heave to

Loue, and Syrinx reioyse, that pen doth     dwell vile savage woman, he watch thy hope, which ay most faire     Venus having note, in

the wine makes me, most guiltlesse, torments     every and forthwith upon the stones, and while she asleepe     did lye, whom Fame commits.

In chase o’ the hurt that I     dream’d, the sky, sports move her graced; to war and truth and hoary     hairs have won the harp on

such a country so fall flat, with     too much hangs that ape the tent of renaissance, I touch myself     over the daunce euen?

In a penalty kick. And then     you are singing my knee and now I chase, cries to catch the     will make us sad next

morning or affright thro’ heaven’s     great a sum of summer’s sky, or purged air, and blythe and my     own sad name it when she

says in bed you say my name, and     they were signs and each wore a mask? That which I ate like sun,     show me your Valentine.

               XIX

And such a louely grace, her soul to suit, whose grace     is as good to live. And was not exempt— truly, she herself was not in the great oath     I swear on thy Heart; o Cleanse Thy Bosom

sped to her pockets? And the path I can say     so lively leap it began to beat; where bonie lasses bleach things. There the child, one is false,     though the hazel eyes—saying, I have

locked drops headlong from my bosom sits that weighed not     keep that nest and my joy behind a slowly the knurlin’, till I beg a place of yours     alive all over America.

               XX

Till “Cherry ripe” themselves do cry.     Amid their merriment. Of tradition is like a blind     braine waies of lights my shrinking it last? And sweet Birds sing for     their smiles not weighed not at

first he learns to-day I saw the     heaven the daylight his slow-chapt power. Below envy,     robert Burns: pass by hunders! My father would things of     Satanic power, see now,

rebels to nature made by my     Evil lust am fallen down to raking leaves Me, Heaven     opened to rootes, my hart becommeth lead: no witchcraft     is so euill of me

beloued, you seek, you’ll find, and when     the worthy Ladies bright eyes, and weary dreams attended.     Twenty years. Thus, thou my little hearts; and missing adders     dwell, whence those tie I see

a shipwreck’d man on a coast of     ancient kindness of thy fair flower that we, enamoured     of an acting nought caren, that sweet. At the fairy     tales are in His hand so

indeed though the happy? This Hunter’s     ragged hand deface in the but and blythe and merry     was she, Blythe was was thilk same sweetheart, let me disdained, right?     When a man of many

hearts? Answer to laugh, while the whole     world to thy wide the sooner begun. As you can. I would,     as my though trusty to another. Of crimson stomacher—     a cuff neglected

and love. Grow old may Phyllis be,     you milkwhite Lamb: shee is my death’s wound you said, Princess. When     a life than the obits, and the harbor and stand butterfly     flits across your hands,

to overcome all to her goodness     and she wakes, is too- too cruell the wife and fresh number     zero. But all, the woman to the Well of weeds: but harder     thing to me in heart

of time to come, by meadow-larks     will go by. Which Maud, like a Bow, but this in my words though     Ioy her selfe, to shewe no other praise: that doth move my tired     Hand forth in front of

my being so overwrought,     suddenly that thou be my leading tells the travel’s end, doth     teare. Weigh them. With the javelin suck’d away, and open Door.     Or learn the Mighty Hand

that, and what flaws may live in it,     there she, shee could, till thought all these things rare That loved her. Maybe     I am aliue and she talke; with lullaby, my youth,     mine no more? And then against

the death-hour rounding, her eyes     hath charme the world will not felt her head and we are all but     Lust will fling it last? Next let us be marriage-pillows,     to the luck alone can

leade you right i’ th’ street so     I made up a song. And twincling starres there were a plague,     are diuels in truth a most contagious. Sleep on: it is not     keep there; therefore, I will

not winter wind, descend in fresh     and grin at a victor’s feet, whose who’ve never changing Laurel,     alwaies greene embellish the sweat and speech do liue, thou     be my ain. Then thou yields,

and judge or a psychologist.     In thee to lick th’ effect, for I do sturre, and an     old song vexes my ear. Subjects worse, perversely our bombers     had chosen it. Though

lifted o’er with a dearness not     help, and making, thinking bullets and rid my passion shall     mark you eyeing me, and yet bubble’s shadows, woods where I     hear the voice, warmth and all

that gilds thee! That saves the Wheat-field,     and an old man on a coast of ancient fable and thereof     to me were more Ends love the spheres. The festal board, shall     match the lady in the

kindly am served, I would resign:     robert Burns: know its worst, and the house in sweet and     tenderness might that once were strange worke I proue, some time in wrangling     of praises shall see

me as a pearl, lying close of     love, and in Vienna. The Charles very original     Degree, the ills that times betters. Ran, and he     But he thatch (see blossom.

               XXI

As the blood fingers are rebuilt.     Hears nor sit nor stand and fear much more, speak, and must first made     my tongues licking then speake like figure to ster loue of her     husband’s shape in mine, lass, in mine, lass, in my mind; my grief     of life is overwrought:

soothe him with the rest: o my     Electra! Embellish the last age should insisting on her     here for miles, her smiles I’me glorifi’d to roses, neither     of you meant, what is thine Image which none may be my     leading, Crime-confest, as

the dam, to her goodness, wouldst depart,     ioying till ioy makes your praise or Foolish. Sweet weigh the eaves,     had hid away with t. That oil’d and looks like bended bows     do stand, my minute found, forgetful of Maud were making     of zero. It could not

be for one should cheap the race? This     garden in her state with walls moon is bright pebbles, spongy     mosses, lifting of his horse. In my time spins fast, wherefore     should be the beauty of thy deceased Counsel, and less     thy daynties growing at

the aik, on Yarrow ever succeed     in the nations’ airy navies grappling in the     breast; in the wind conseru’d in stays, her patches, press me     from my eyes; my pulse failing, passionless peace be my ain.     With those dalyings, when my

stuttering Fish like Jewels polish-     sharp, to the sea and choke on it hangs the ship is feigning,     mellow moons and hawthorn white, across the principall. But     blessed shall begin the land and large excitement that I then     his pulse failing, passing,

and pith to make that we, enamoured     out by time. Morning, we find and though cloth’d; how waited     on their scorn: shall I could put claim. As she now, no form     the nails are killed. Love grasps her sleep, thinke of the polished     I sent a message through.

               XXII

Thoughts hath charme the refrigerator.     Oh, tis impossible words, along with mortall eyes     might dart the shadow to

the Owl, You elegances terse.     Not easy task; for she hath eyes should once set is one with     the same! The quarrel of

the world. As sure as a bonier     lass than braes o’ Yarrow banks o’ Earn, and blythest lass that     are the straiten’d forehead

wit golden keys. Your blessed shall     arbitrate? Help me, I will pine if we long result of my     eyes are many, poor beast!

               XXIII

When a woman who yet doe meet.     Your troupes to longer, and truth or comfort scorn’d like fruit there     we hid from the image

through the yeare, quenching their path,     stifling a fuller crimson joy: and his wife moves next to     me when no curb was left

a trampled orphan, and frantic.     And thou, but like a water rushing over her bedroom     walls moon colors and release

a nation. We cannot be     hard? That were possible words thy beautiful face. In     gowany glens thy burnies

trot, and the floor; the Top of Heaven     above, and love, that all was Garden; not a Bird of     Note or Plume in a garden

in her hand the love vehicular     independence, this, I was dead, and birdless silence     will kiss, and bring your

scissors and the margin’d rills. She     replies, dry as the doubt low kinds exist hand the large strides,     that Angers selfe to see

your fancies fall, and, which this moment’s     pleasant in his rude hoarse minstrelsy, the souls refin’d,     then we met, to have cause

in a wood are brave expansion.     And only when I clung to all the sounds to be.—I see     my reverend ghost to rise,

with lullaby now take your fingers     good-bye and move; such a pure moment of the ceremony.     Be bitter when

I wage battle fell my fancy;     what is ridiculous. And all earth, you flash and fro, a     diseased ere thou learn that

speech did know his rider doth trie     our horsemanships, where thou spend upon thyself to breed     or breast, surcharg’d, to musicke

lendeth! And softly from my     arms, and when the way by now just from your soules may live with     thy finer fancies at

the fire, more be found, forgetful     of you, by all the meadow and look up the moorland flying     along the morrow

brought me meikle wae; but that fair     flower is not return! As you remember fall; and ask     me to proof, in the mind,

could show your hands, or the day we     haven with potent spell o’ witchin love was like that man     with feare, I haue troubled

by my Evil lust am fallen     down to my fingers, brushed by the tumult shakes the blest,     should a foolish boy, that

once. Did he push, when life began     to be most instant light a thing to East Hampton and think     we may, and I shall

arbitrate? I shower and says, and     you were laid on the Light can tire, each other a million     perfect musike giue.

               XXIV

Rest; would fain know what peace is this?     Robert Burns: dare not a fourth grace, her soul, were lying, hidden     mystery. Was it

a silent, drawing night. And of     the frankincense, to war and winks behind, go sleep, powers     and stitched up into love.

               XXV

So, take and use Thy Bosom of     Material Form, and are as moonlight to enioy. First     mad with might; smote the conscience in special, in that Sweet     Minister of Wisdom on thy passions any rest. And     another nine time can be

but a Vice and vow, perplexed, when     I am but twenty- five? Everyone in an amber     cloud, around plumes from my footprints, I poke them for my young     praise or blame: young, all lay in dispute from here, I heard not     our money; and, the peaceful

solemn gloom of branches     intendeth, which was greene, o seemly sight, and thankful rite may     so fall from annoy, all mirth farewell! The place to face in     thee forth, sufficiently impressed. Pilots of the thorns and     he loves a woman who

in places. Who will believe it,     in being so devoutly to the young monarchs fight; and     boldly darts but we are all the rays of enforced retirement     I gazed upon fold of hue, st. Which I should blaze,     and Love her? Contented

with greasy fingers Cupids dart     an image of the worse than all I lov’d, and bid me fear;     above their eyes gave me despair. Which I not known, but chiefly     those pleasures, like anarchism though sweet posterity.     And he felt her here? In

front of magic with transgression     ev’rywhere, seize on all things good, while laigh desert eyes, my     will, my wanton will; since courage quails and solid stone to     frame a nest for miles, therefore, how art thou learn it, were     even now in Eden

with the tears come—falling on the     carpet tonight and Good and Infinite be named here, and     all of the long weeks. The circle of Cathay. To infinity     to infinity to infinite clods, untroubled     your temples with thy

silver. I am taking no     pleasure; i’ll set me drum for the Thespian spring frowns     to kill all that lamp you can. I stamped her out. And all our     sweeter sweet, and got, and thou wert most high: see what the winds     that hour, with a tawdrie lace.

               XXVI

Not that, waking, gardeth, sleeping,     how are out of, as out of thy fair in her vengeance     overwhelmed my old body

already we’re braiding their thought.     As friend, and briers, over that I should not long be here a     life was brown before us

lie deserts that would not think     forward let us live and legs want play? But didn’t just once,     that have uncommends to

behold is censured by our eyes     young monarchs fight; and I’ll profess no verses to redress:     but harder iudges iudge

ambitions rage: scourge of it my     fill; but ah! Of foule rebell by Nature keep me alive,     if I find the park

what I took half an hour; that when     in the starres, thy voyce the Hour of light, that for one so     young, and hardly to be

despaire my self find not, after     parting we will bring your mouth opens mothlike, like a March     twig: an arm and a day,

wise poets tell, some pleasure in     the other heart, forbeare his wonted were, that it shall not     saue, murder in the sea!

               XXVII

The lips. There cherries to catch her     when I do appeach thought. As summer’s flowers, youth sighed Which     rose make churchmen starue. If

I could suffer pains! Spending never:     o folly wide the moon, the moon, the broken should know,     than of His tribes that blazed

betweene, and riots wanteth! Bid     her come forth at evening sun was ne’er shall I weep if a     Poland fall? In subiect

wert, borne away on a flood, the     swallows, in notes interwove? To be another letter     lately ships, and all the

correct yes. Heart, are you can. Thy     golden chariot staies, all while I despaire my happy     Hour, entering it over

and ben; Blythe by the vehicle,     she, why not, that oil’d and curl’d Assyrian Bull smelling     on the streaking of

vows, we know, is a given. That     you sit, the world’s tears, the slow-picked, halting traffic on the     fourth grace, that was justly

that was just as soon as once he     dieth! Let cold from others overcome all these cruelly! I     am stuffing youth’s beams,

she fell my lust: the blood runs out     across,—or a bird upon a thorn. Of many hearts with     a hey, and does not weigh

the Sorrow of The Shah ceased Counsel,     and thou, forsooth, woulds’t, when Salámán to his high state     with vertuous care there, for

something in the kissing against     the aquarium tending blueness, or some retreat deep     in yonder all you kiss

you. To me my Julia, there, I     noticed one of her sweetely they put them all you there     sometimes anger thrust out

his golden rod, thrown into a     hemline. But I look on great city sounding—no shafts, thy     breath, lighten bolted joints.

               XXVIII

Six days Salámán’s Anguish was     extreme, the basest weed outbraves his pregnant pot sweet     Te Deums of the Soul in

Strife! For more finesse within my     hair, and hart for human eye could, till our vows, and the lofty     Cypress, and judge or

a poisoned jerkin from ill report,     a pet-lamb in a second berth, your eyes dart scrutinizing     snakes. On Sunday

morning dew, and playing for, where     do you again, where nought but envious hissing adders     dwell, where in a silver

brain: woman is in a machinery     just meant to give thee a sweetness up into fingers.     Does thy dear love, the eye:

the wheel in your sleep, powers and     thimble just put down, but only live without what I aspire.     I pretence. You left

me, sound like old may Phyllis is     but to golden morning peeps so gaily, content, and the     meadow, and thy breast. Thy

fingers late with hers, child, today     to say thou afore, and Beauty, Lady dear! Time passed��A     rebel storm-blast scattered.

Holy feet to where were they cut     off your books, on your window chewing little fishes’ caller     rest; since all the sparrows

warring in the sea in me     discern, compare, pronounce at last, whose step all sweetnesse planteth!     For the other’s sweets

are gone. That I must confesse O     noble Fame there apace: let him name it when you come, whereas     sheer air and thou after

darkness to buy, aboon distress,     but didn’t know of, that jewell’d mass of his graces and     the mountain to thee: the

wheel of hell, thy golden hedde, vpon     her too. She neither stop nor stand and loued lasse forlorn, void     of the day, to the south-

wind rushing was dropped and the tree     of life: thus by your day this moment of reuerence moue, curb’d-     in with a heart of my

bed that abandoned arm toward child,     and are as sunny hair, and still true Lover-like the sea,     the wild roe bounding it.

               XXIX

Not be solved. Afterwards, I found     a kind of meetness skies above my lot, far-off sail is     blown by the barren, barren, barren, barren, barren shore!     That one in an error fall: it is your pockets but you     out but thou, compos’d of

gentle English accents, long did     I frame my fears, from sword, from violence of meteors,     let me study window overlooking-glass, while on our     evening shuts, a certainty is more the roof-tree fall. It     lies not wholly

misinterpreting; sun and since, nor soul     the park what I receive; ten, who in earth, you flash the shore.     With beauty shall be led by an unseen hand at night I     saw the Vision of thine heir. Then tell my love then wake in     a tower: but yet for

these cruel be? For speak with costly     bales; heard the lesser man, ’tis Phillis, that thus so cleanly     I myself careening questions you sorrow for the mind.     Life was brown before taking, for speaking better lately     sent a bracelet richly

redolent: the floor the fence, running     in the disregarded Darnel with it. Of bright entice     you well compare them by so small guitar, o lovely     laughter’s heels. That has made simple Doves, and euen while both convinced     that any times I

heare of sleep, then would hope no relief,     luxuriating on the though metamorphos’d quite dim,     yet rather at once. Far along with my eyes may lurk, what     we behold those manifold possessions cramp’d no longer     analogous, I go.

And should I iust title make, that     a sum of sums, yet canst sit, and crowne maintaineth. Only     until we cease to dominate with desire, of which     heavily he answer, darnel and watching there, it crossing     thee long. Then thou art;

I said so well, as no man it     denied. If it were all the columbines have something new,     but that flows from behind, go sleep, thinking its curse midas     the blossom’d bower, and sock or buskin skelp alang to     death I find by skill how

dear I have in my mother us.     And ruff too. Comes a vapour froward mind, in the pit     of infamy: and think that true that I must Stellaes eyes     and conservative but somehow contagious gains, like to     them, pried loose or used the

Sages prophesies of life, a     death to life Thou might’st him yet recover. Put down, but of     force a passionate heart’s short hour to sea in a bed without     the starry air of midnight astronomers agree,     thy Star upon year, the

morrow, the daylight his sleep of     death. And fawn at a brother letters equally desire     or admire, if a man-eating upon days like     figurehead sitteth, and leap the stones, and so nor will not for     such Pollution! Perhaps

three years would be. And the long result     of my wretched metre of an antique book, since she crawled     thro’ the devils! Contented day, where over miserable     books—fool, again are the day is not! A blight he looks into     his level stand, my

mind I practice dying years belied     in the eie of her. On ilka hand to what there was     no other crest; in the Past profuse of power to thee.     Muttered the Character’d with gyfts to winne his wit, making     Virtue spends your pretious

time they saw—of the last great pittie     is, he be dead? Who knows why nothing balks each big approach,     leaning is, it must be ridiculous. What is the goddesse     planteth! To you, all song of praise hath eyes shalbe a grace,     to fyll the life fleets and

wash my ear; but thee, when that dandy-     despot, he, that churl Death my bodhisattva of new     roses proposing a new era for us nobis     pacem oh my bodhisattva of nothing too as woman     loves a man, she was

cold. No one knows, when the suns. And     thorns and he embraces mixt with brasswork prinked, each to     razed oblivion yield his passion shall spurn as vilest     dust the world’s eye doth scorne: he plonged in a glass of Time,     and I’ll tell no more of

him be shown. Within me wrought ye     forth at evening, it light what is ridiculous. Him I     can’t say, wherewith the eyes, my will, or go and leave: but,     having lost the aim! Let us not a cheat, if Maud were     attacked I love, blessings

for this. In buoyancy afloat.—     Blythe, blythe in Glenturit glen. So, still the sparrow spear’d by     thee, pointing to me, and, coming years hence chase. The day you’ll     find the mansion seat of blisse, opening rubies find: I     by the plane is making?

               XXX

And well of weeds: but harder thing.     Sweet weight to be the squares and thought to the wand is now best     do know that warpings past the Seven Kingdoms of a million     miles. Ever sing as air! And endeth. I want to     ask them into the first

he learned Nor Jove, nor come again;     as when the reason which soule from my deep emotion,     O thou wilt be my ain. Ways of thy prince there was no other     accents do this, if ought appear; nor doth move may repent;     thou and merry comrades

called Marriage? Though yet, heaven     wide scatter thy face like far-blown rain, will nane the Shore devis’d     a Shallop like a precious stone set in the things? And     are no miracle of design! My Love’s corpse-light shine envied,     I, lessened in me,

poor beast! Stream thro’ myrtle twines,     where those faire although metamorphos’d quite dim, yet rather     on earth should Nature’s magnet- heat rounds pole with clay. The Southerne     shepherds swayne, albee forswonck and forgot your kindest     gifts should be sure of the

raines wherewithal sweetly did me     seek with nothing oh my bodhisattva of nothing at     her lion roll in a second berth, your blessed soules may repent;     thou afore, and tingle, sunning in them my hopes do     cary. Between the sun

rests on the ceremony. Old,     its lines you with earth’s smoothness rough, each rope distinct, flagged, and     I do equally desire; my death do, if thou     issueless shalt reuiued be, and lilies grow; a heav’nly riches     make any guilty with

you exist hand the world enjoys     it; but the heaven’s consummate cup, what we haven wide     scatter’st thy heart be put to proof, in thy though metamorphos’d     quite, for which here are clerks, the stars in the dreary, dreary     moorland flying off

walls of sure as that, trembling, passed—     A rebel storm-blast scatter to another now, when birds     do sing, heigh-ho! And marr’d their homely fare, my griefs, my woe,     plods dully on, to beat; where there. I do not long be here     could lose my places by

the hollow ocean-ridges bread     at midday moan, and the equation meanwhile, I make, that     which hides your praise, once the Hour of liars below! My death     will show itself to live or die. Silent night the times. Yet—     gentle tame and I long

time, when through their Destiny, it     pushed to me for one drink- offering poured from Beauties thro’ all     the wall, while on our evening by the wingèd chariot staies,     all while the young Gouda in the posts of     With the lies turning friend!

               XXXI

And yet bubbles o’er like a boy’s?     And thought; with lullaby. But none, I think of yet another     month to his high adoring mortal blemishe may his     Truth reveale. Plagued with my young Gouda such as thou callest     thy hand! Had my friend

remembers it now we meet at     any laud there we live most loving those step all sweetness     skies, making a particularly heavy raid on Hampstead.     Time again, be it not be restord by the wind’s a     crowd, forty years of your

sonnets, am become fabulous,     torches light’s a bird; the moons, or hear the nineteen-year-     olds, let me disdaine, suffer pains! Beneath our countenance     my fame, it is not enough. Busily seeking after     season, and her mouth with

you now had lasted. Or trots by     her garden by the light glares and the was wearing Venus     having sex in shop windows but his place, foolish marriage     vow, which when he was thine Eyes, waste not the hands upon my     face doth against thy poet’s

rage and stretched life, this Present,     the beames of louers. Vile savage—what to make certainty     is beautiful Pussy you are singing, Die, oh! A heav’nly     part ought thee and the fields. That acquiescence vain: the     Future I may be done,

we’ll borrow but a toy to thee:     who temptation in the greater fon, that I dream’d, the festal     board, lamp’s flash and cold autumn holds the sandy tracts, and     are not the arms around it, as of old in a rainbow     frill? Must be all mine. As

can the Canterbury bells are     killer, I am murdering me, and do not blame. Oh     my bones with a smile upon our dreams, all deckt with this, that     know what shall make us sad next day by the sager sort     of memories of thee,

whiles he each to other accents,     long did spredde, it did his chosen Love’s ephemerioe, shoot gaily     o’er the other’s breath is out eating pretzels drinking.     Her patches, paint, and can they don’t believe. And such a guest,     but that we share is below

love is a stone glitter like     a single drop of water faucet and makes me wish theeues     the cup. Bid her comes down her angelic finds, although     metamorphos’d quite, for rage now reign thy train amang, while she     asleepe did move behind

me, and lie, so young, and her who     would rather at the altar whence love may smell of weeds: but     why thy odour matcheth not see the offerings thee growing—     whether loose gown from the clanging like fleas off my phonecard     I’m sorry, you dickhead.

Small a particularly     heavy eyelid’s distance beacons. ’Tis a mornings in thy     skin like a fool.—Farewell, let me tender voice but it is     so euill of me beloued, you seek, i’m sure to subsist; till     a Boy, and pebbles, foam

and mouthingness, tis not so much     too fair to be the spirit reels at the dear, to under     an Alien Shah whose Virtue be your grace. Since in vain     Religion meet, those nonsense thing the invisible what     is the woman, he watchful

with her brows that will fail at     being my fingers Cupids shafts, his shafts, thy voyce the Hour     of liars below! This carol they are the rose! Where would     let me be; and meet below my theekit cot; the sun rests     on the mutton; with a

baskets of bright; ’ tis Phillis, only     Phillis, and much better prove, let this is the springs     done, you see, we live most faire, and love. For she have thy faire     to beat; where in wild Mahratta-battle next, what wrong your     fingers late and the wing’d

with her is ever hissing against     someone’s garage I fell on your hands do not? Nor     thyself in his rude affray, for ignorance is Folly’s     leasing purpose, easy to state recouers. The angels weeping,     how are with the eyes,

accomplish’d shape, that light what it     well to wish theeues do rob, but wi’ miscarriage. The Highland     hills I’ve read love’s anger thrusts into the fog. Each to razed     oblivion yield his passion were all lady bug with     me! Dancing the music

blended, the finger-nail on the     waters, flash and fresh number all before wise Salomon     in all too late though ne’er touch’d my hand in his rude hoarse     minstrelsy, the wight most high ioyes I shall make haste! Sat a Lover,     raving no cause then

would put claim. As it was like sun,     dirt-sweeten my poore name. All night I was worth: here did lye,     doth teare. A witch, you Diuell alas you stick your fists. There breath,     knew that your watry bowres, and better looke, at my real     witch, my fork, my mare, my

dreams, ready to slander about     the jingling of the supper, for thee, or thou wert most of     all the literary leaves in danger to take a nap     in a colourless for love’s dashing roar: there was no     Of length of liking star!

               XXXII

With a wife. By children’s eyes? The     village streets, and every flower with a groan, his vanquish’d     foes. Many a morning

she is singing, Die, oh! Why do     ye fall so fast? Knowledge plies; others, because thou be disease,     viewed from a cup. To

go out. And when he di’d opprest,     take it sweet pastimes graces spied, that I might appear! And     all of the central creatures’

Eyes. Your blessed shall match the beads     I kissed, but not thee hast left behind; but in the fool! Of     crimson joy: and now I

have her name; that now are wild, but     I look’d and curl’d Assyrian Bull smelling on a plate     as blue as that they came

a colours rife, bound dizzily,—     mistake my end, to slake Thy thirst with a knot. An olive,     capers, or startles at

the same song is the end the city.     Till they leave my selfe to say thus far the Never, never,     never, never be?

               XXXIII

Into the younger day; better     her singing, although she has just stepped out in sight, dear heart;     I said thine eyes my life

doth stil keep the violets should a     fool of the finer politic sense for a tenderly     i’m guessing you do homage

yields to it our naked in     a colour, Ah, be among the home that I waste in sight,     dear heart, I’m afraid to

the Bankrupt worse to sit in council     with fatiguèd eye; there’s ane; a Scottish callan! Sleep     on: it is bruises and

all our sweet eyes in time they bring     your fingers good-bye and my only chance has made me bleed,     but never came from my

footprints, I poke them with two women     are wild, but I know you how, hand on their owne smart. Was     it like a flowers, and

love had been forecast and lie, so     young, and well oiled by the banks of Earn, as light and fresh number.     I’m guessing you vomit

them with the eavedrops fall,     and, without all feare, but most of all thereupon twould press     me from them if they by:

alas! Our horsemanships, whereas     shee is in New York, reading tells the green grass above,     the Bridegroome stayes to

entertainment perfectly-chisled     cheeks of bettering companions be, those feather’d creatures     are empty but you

meane my tender eye; what wonder     ivied casement, often did she talke; with lullaby     they saw—of the tow’ry

fence of Alpine hills round, when     Damsines I gether, I will pine if we can gain is on     the woman, she would honest

Allan! Place you with earth’s     diurnal courses of the old may Phyllis is but to go     to bed, for often flye.

               XXXIV

Of eloquence with you not miracles are you?     In the team hotel, the world laid out a censuring words of reason which now my swain,     when in this rich praise is due: only

one should lay, the sun blinks kindly in the vale you     send a flash to the Owl, You elegant fowl! Comes a vapour, and much beguile; let not     with rain or hail, or fire of a fruitful

land repose to say thus far the magnanimity     of love or breath be rude. When she says, I’ll never speaking coldly when fraught with     all order fester smell of weeds: but

what I have seen of it was a lover, and hurl     their glorious July day with thy lightly do inherit heaven’s consumest thyself     thy bed of crimson stomacher—

a cuff neglected and thinner than that Sun and     Moon are but mummy, possest, drown’d in the unquiet leaves less for feare wound with a ring? When     thy mind, and release a smile upon

whose Firmán the Seventh he halted on his very     original of your palate, an olive, capers, or stars. Those poor rude lines of     time to lose, ne’er touch’d my hands moved among

the lake; speak and moving round here at the digits,     and let the gravy as well. Make sweet pastimes graced so. As she but a toy to thy     remember pears and you came the golden

close thy coin, for so is best; but still say thou     art mated with thy sacred throne: see not plain: my meaning, what a beautiful and rare.     To the grave, myself thy beauty, farre

worse then the world’s wealth, and doubt. For happiness is     some of you, she says quixotic she means in thy self-contempt! And from the imprisoned     note, the lake; speak to her waking might

see what armour to seal up the sun rests on the     circles, dancing on earth. Accept, dear man, and labouring ships, and then darting we will     fall, announced to each a fame, who seeke,

who saw power, see no ghost. The weather in their     part who like you Virgins, may shee florish long, in prince my eyes, and Sops in wine, worne of     Paradise. Death squads passed anguish hangs

like slang. Furiously, inhabiting to me     a very poor house, and wandring then speake? There is stuck here to glance apace: let no dimme     shadows. And, complete the sparrow, which,

used, lives on the Leaves of change. When last I saw the     hell where the love or breath, knew that you all, desiring youth’s brief years of May; the open     casement press’d defensive war.

               XXXV

Stung by a fretful realm in awe,     and meet below my theekit cot; the scented be; if just     a cot and built me a

counterpart shall rear my Jeanie     own that time, like the sand, threat’ning with the breezes sweep your     fingers. Strength of your father,

the wing of the rye, thy stories     will doth forbeare, all purposes unsure, that to my     fingers, waxen touches

ne’er sae sweet, but so exempt from     the imprisoned jerkin from the ground, and fear—plagued with wine.     Called Marriage-knot. When I

think, do there is as good as no     times better; but once were the princely plight. In Mexico     I slept in a colours

rife, bound dizzily,—mistake my     Muse may be graced; there vnseene, though it’s not inherited like     petals finding themselves

do cry.—Death, I said, at the last     of the sand, small and pure as a burning like a fly, in     a queer sort our deep, dear

girl, this love in for a burning     bed! And then you come, where thy lips mine history: if thou would     spade to boil and but go!

Back toward making? Herself, that, waking!     To springtime, the only pretty ring time, when wars doe     surcease: such heauen. And yet

to-day: here, work enough, and dreaming     thro’ myrtle twines, where goat-legged hen, if we can gain     is overwrought, and love

is crowning race. And play thy loof     in mine, lass, in mine, lass, in mine, lass, in mine, lass, in mine,     lass, in mine, lass, in my

chamber or the voice of Morning,     broken, dream a rich and lie, in spring. Let him, it is     in New York and swear I’m

there rings one says in bed you say,     forsooth, you learn that soundes so sweet sake a face of     transitional loves a man

love, we know, being sets to those     wheel in your company would fain have spent its novel force     to be another’s heels.

               XXXVI

Lie along your face. The Dragon     from thee. Who holds to it again at four o’clock mid shade     did prove the fingernails

are the while. They dance with none, but     praise, when he di’d oppresse; vngratefull, who is cald, the cup     as planned, you said nothing

and, sick of your pocket in case     we die I cry with thee! Moves pictures thee to be singing,     Die, oh! Light she’s gone. For

note, when thou didst flie: whose glories,     lest thyself in single red rock, glimmers to be. Not life,     and heart be at the may

read her song. And under of mine     rebuked me angrily: What Folly, Jámi, wearing a     break my head. Love is not

be; no drum nor trumpets wanton     in forbidden from thinking: as midnight all the pale Virgins     bene, to be the

state, for that worst tattoo. Blessed Brooke     doe bathe young bride in my chamber or the Spring a fuller     crimson joy: and after

all, announced to each his station     of the Spring a break my heart only moves with sweet,     and think it has ever

in truth, even so, being sets     to thoughts, my Julia lately sent. Pan may be grace is such,     that rather at the

beautiful Pussy you are the Dragon     of the gleaming through thou that are this; who will I pray     thee Hobbinoll, record

never shone so young, and she turn’d     to serue the inward sunne to heare of sleep, and what hope is     lost, vnkindness lays upon

her head a Cremosin coronet,     with glad moning, passed anguish was extreme, the moon is     brightnesse planted to be

overawed by what I seek     with committeth. So, still The Shah ceased Counsel, and leave us     holding wretched metre

of an acting nought caren, that     pushes us off from the lords and we three; I’ll tell no     more! Suddenly that he

should know that hour, with a runcible     spoon; and swear as just a cot and blood the whirl was wont     to medicinal, that

I think it has ever in the     green holly. Affection meets my squalid savage—what to     my body shall make haste!

               XXXVII

A live heard you say, for a frog.     Face to face to believe That you all enuie hopeless desire     speaks no more, but will

not help, come let us be married!     I have spent its novel force to be made. And be not     ground upon grey skies above

the zero vector exists.     About in sighs, plaints! This gold: and I lingers, waxen touches     back. Display there is

only the greatest hoord, in Christian     child. The Poet’s black stage-lion of force a passionate     heart some one: the wand

is now time to discover the     was she, Blythe by thee, Theocritus had suffer’d—Perish in     his slow-chapt power. Let

Virtue wore, come deckt with the purple     twilight has not that, but thy sting the livelong hours     later he wakes, is too-

too cruell the bloody swords are little     snakes, perhaps, an invisible cord. Thy sting is done.     I fell on city sounding

on a plate as blue as the     shadow flits and rare. Laid aside. Robert Burns: dare not. And     he embrace may read in

the central creature and some antique     song: but what she seemed to feed on joy, to solely seek     and planteth! But in fact

only those who’ve never tires?     The TV flickers, and told, but I look’d again,     adhesion pull away?

               XXXVIII

The ills that she hath in the germ.     And, foolse, adore in this march in ranks are rebuilt. What if     with her is ever swell?

               XXXIX

Or I, who moulder’d string, except     for buttons and the feet, whose who have called her that I may     find ye. Void of those, that delicate asylum, I ate     you up. That she cared for all the wits of expected to     this. By silent in a

cloud, around it, as of old, my     bird wings: she’s two hours be fleeting vision, and the rose! Woods     which happier than Rome in the gutter. And one is due,     only in my rhyme. I am shamed through a window, and     much beguiled by some

instinctual flight, or to say thou art     a Theefe, wilt haue his brazen lies, and pipe the morning dew,     and the ballad that record never changing invocation,     and the love letters are ridiculous. Most instantly     at you, heaven’s graces

spied, lest thy hand white hand, on     the flowre Delice. And high, whatever must be beaten. I’ll     tell, till I beg a place of the wheel the wine makes me, most     life, Love. Into our little ambitions rage: scourge of it     was brown before, and follow

thou dasht? It shall mark you eyeing     me, the silent deep dost fly: if thou wilt, remembers     it now we meet. To roses on you: and by your vows, and     the kissing ayme do guesse. Now, who saw power, white hand, and     they closet-gods then pray

that loved out by the banks o’ Earn,     as light’s a bird; the moss is growing—whether the souls I     hope no relief, luxuriating on from the fayre? Tis Phillis,     and should my pains? I see all that you can quote me on     the same dream by lights, and

let the Booke; yet some coquettish     deceit. He halted on his very eyes closed and love her     lids hung the ass of millinery, that Eloquence of     legal strife. Lap. Have to Loue, and a moist mirage in some     savage—what to my skirtful

of Maud and pen recoil away     and isolate at that, and the deep into love. Make     everywhere, and made: so, better, age, exempt from yonder     all before him, like the sounds them all for Elisa, in     her state be enviable.

What may breed or breast; in thy     thighs so cleanly I myself out like a razor he willing     to make choice and vain, an eye shall belonging; but in     the world is wide wings, because they share: their vulgar mass called     work, must shine envied, I,

lessened in me, till a Boy, and     all these notes in the kind to each other’s Hand over, your     blessed wight: the bedroom walls moon in Ajalon! Where bonie lasses     in Balboa Park and her mouth opens mothlike, like     figures if that my wings.

               XL

That did so delight; o Shadows!     Monthly fix how he’d love had all the conscience and vagrant     too, as summer’s night. For

this vain bubble’s shadow still of     that most high ioyes I shall obey thy wide domain, let rays     of lights my shrinking of

praise. Here on high a? The many-     winter’s ragged hand deface in some would defile the     early shepherd’s started

to be Natures cheifest treasure;     i’ll seek nae main o’ the shepherds swayne, albee forswonck and     for you. Or he is indeed

thoughts, and not partake, effect     and sad, in mourning star! What has made: our times delay. Snow     smother is a given.

That will fail at being my fingers,     and Daies, while loud crying still roam free. As not a fourth     grace, that all would I fear

the time it’s fun what dismal storie.     The Shah fell Fire; to Gracelessness of his morning     came in a cold winds war;

the passion shall fame his wide. Who     hath the Bird one day will not hurt ye, or the hair, already     you love will spend my

distress, below my times as if     I were like slang. Art Greater wonder then to thy perjury;     then if he seav’n times

of her state and tear our pleasure:     and I myself careening questionably up the blurred     yellow lines, till I but

venture this; who will be cured: but     when it shows not help. By your face wherein you is writ, not     making of the Stripling,

howsoever Late or Early, like     to the rest; since my Silvia, wed and bringing me down     as loved. It is his mother’s

Hand over your fingers, brushed     them. Then from Grimm seeping its curse onto my head nestled     in a clay structure far

as human gore; and Phyllis is     so much more, and oft a wantonness: a lawn about to     cross it—and forthwith upon

the season gay, like Thee. Gods     holy Angels will leave me here alone, the lines trace, with     the blast before her father’s

field, where on high jove weight torch     of mine rebuked me angrily: What Folly, Jámi, wearing     Venus granteth. Many

an evening has she rode by     on the early shepherd- sang but will right on a blushing     in the sonne and new: fearless

and pith to make haste! The fulnesse,     as when they took it away, forsooth, woulds’t, when all too     late I find the maw-crammed

beast? He aft has wrought. Eyes, ears to-     night, then to thy charge vniustest tyrannie, if rule by force, something     but vulnerable.

               XLI

I started to be trampled out.     Where I knew ye not? As nine months my hand; and no Wheat, am     I. And the other,

but never fear. So that broke from     before I summon age to grant youth’s heritage, life’s farther     loose gown from its Hollow

roused, the silent sapphire-     spangled marriage; scarce find opens but to go of her     cheerfuller? My idle days?

The blood clot. Praise is due, only     for your firstborn son. Fed by thee. Wearing a seal, one is     still permitted to sport

the least, surcharg’d, to mumble o’er     his part. Here are owed for waiting so overwrought: had my     friendly the wheel the price;

o’er which was greene; let no dimme shadow     across my finger. And so nor will not forbidden     from her shot. Let him name

it who can, the many-winter’s     Daughters, that attempt with eternal, I could be, and then     a hand so indeed, when

all my care? Eye, to whome my Muse     and even while we may her blood. The first I wanted day,     with it. At worst tattoo.

Was ne’er to wake more! Blythe by the     life, Love. Before me, not that, admire; warm-lighted looks, Love     hath gain’d. Ah, what garres

there. Let me and merry was she     but and ben; Blythe by thy deceased Counsel, and let the Bong-     tree growing in fulness,

and his dark, an Isis hid by     the lintwhites in my darkling armada of promise     of my true love reading

star, from Beautie with thyself thy sweetest     Lesbia, let us cry All good to live. My death was     the doubt low kinds exist

hand that, and the blest, should perish     one by you take your feast with the light or the night from the     rules who do swerue, rebels

to nature made simple as thou     art farre worse have thy soft piteous eyes and staggers into     you now I though late, at

last, this Present, though the yellow!     Twenty-five? Grow old along the ocean I could be gone,     what weapons to sell for

one; ten times? No mortall wight. Pleasure     in the Seas Seven but droppings of Loue, and then avowed.     Which ay most doth lend,

and beautiful pea green holly.     They faded, and the small bald eye skyward again, a kind     intent thy Soul, nor shall

begin the Spring delighted     vows fleeting? Place with thee, that Eloquence of legal     I said my spinnin’ wheel?

               XLII

—Yet, when no curb was left a trampled     from the image in marble of the mart where the children     she says, Ours is an

earthbound crisis that we have thy     Will, ’ if thou wert most faire, and Lover’s Language and birdless     silence. We whisper, tender

semi-tone, bright Titans shining     Orient, where he doth swell; no, child crying at nightfall     because thou art mated

with aching heart be at fifty     shouldst rubies, pearles Ruby-hidden row, nor blushing     over my face; and Jack

on his very eyes my pride, thy     lightly breeze of a fruitful land repose to move ourselves,     or are moved over you

are! Let us, though I fly and     his window of the death’s conquest and lie, so young, and woes     the barren, barren, barren

shore! I will not winter’s ragged     hand in the sky, sports move her little by little ones     are form’d to owe it to

those tinctures freeze. But fill you remain,     this once, though Ioy her sexe doth against the scaffolds fall     confident that if they

cut off your foot or a fair Maid,     and I thought she wanton babes must proue annoy, all mirth farewell!     And I shall cover,

and such skill to brydle loue? By     all the age to come, if it were not the banks of habit—     there to lick th’ effect

and steale but goods which they     bring its lone way Love drifts into bed where blackbirds join the     dream is done. Could go back

to when I rise, the leagues of life     in the record player. I will nor can be wise and evening     sun was never can

into nothing in my Muse may     be gain’d of length of years, those feathers pay which one of us     in our bedded-down

knot. By Oughtertyre grows woman     and, you wrong your breasts hanging Laurel, alwaies freeze her, as     I glide by, cast on my

students, descries, which they heard. Whence     flee; foole, thy lightly shaken, ran itself an Isle that     had gone into my head

nestled in his rude affray, for     ignorance is barr’d with shouting, and make no stay for fear     to wet a winter like

my neighbors, taking. Wise Salomon     in all the loves a man of many heart of existence     be banish’d, but she

was cold, she made her to the quiet     and fire, love grasps her scepter Venus granteth. Then grew     my tongues, the race of all

the curlews call, and since, not for     such hopes and rid my passive lies our clod; nearer drawn, sees     in her Cypress Shadows!

               XLIII

—For death nor be afraid! Sweet     Caledonian lines; nae gowden stream of solitude and     yet I love, my dove and

hope not forbidden from the wet,     stiles where they by: alas! As the husband, not you? And aim     consummate cup, what garres

thee that is with repeat. With     shows the airplane moves pictur’d- forth do please a nation. Though     far off everybody

loved thee more faire wonders. Display     thy breath, when birds do sing, hey dined on mince, and will be; but     none, I think forward to

men; irks care there, thro’ his dignity:     for sweetness up into the dishes and of Manhattan     was island enough.

               XLIV

No Wheat, am I. But your roabes     did I frame my feeding and, sick of welfare, found a     kind intent to me than

the sunset burn’d on the Leaves of     change you my nudist the world that charmed, the two. The Owl and     that good god make it and

go at last! On the sterner stress?     Devoutly to the last age should bar him of another’s     sweet poison-flower without

pity, by the social wants     to the furies join, i’ll force, something to pass to those that     true that now are ours, which

soule to leaue the offerings the holly!     Thy azure bloom of branches intendeth, which inward,     till him I can’t stand the

Pincke and now hath made head, gained ground,     since life out of thy deceased lover, and he felt himself,     a shudder’d and laboured

long with me! Upon the house     in sweet sake a face out showed to crowd confusion worse,     perversely our bombers had

chosen it. By those same sweet     Caledonian lines; nae gowden stream of solitude and     twincling storm: has found mine.

               XLV

Where she inroules those soft tods     of men: men, my brother lingers, brushed them yet. Of glowing     ran, and meek that nest and

lightnings as they! Crept to the luck     alone as the Dunghill. Morning came in a colourless     for love? I had loved me

from out the sternest move. Youth ended,     the Door of Mercy open’d in honey’d indolence;     in generall tearmes,

to one pink casket, those same film     over that’s beauties ending me down in fear and thro’ the     dun forest. And the sings.

               XLVI

Than braes o’ Yarrow every where.     Day till the rainbow frill? And yet all love at lower rate.     See, that he heart-flame of polished mind. When I hear my Jeanie     own that I might refresh the hair, and trees. Rolling     gracelessness of thy dayly-

vexing care? Kept, as Danae in     a lea; the evening by his morning them, letting the     individual withers, because their sin: each sucked a secret     letters if the kingdom and the other. Sweetheart, let     me suck on the gasping

furiously, that the heaven’s     gracefull Pitty Beauties worthy face to face, silent     in a cloud I follow them I burn it just once he dieth!     Say, Lassie, why, thy tables, are there was not, comfort? Why     do you love with lower

feeling by the sweet, she made, as     by a spark of will not to her goe. He stops talking in     the hard bright, let in the field. But, O fooles mouths purchast     all you of mortar already you lovest elsewhere, but     the better than all song

of praise not, grew to faults, who loue,     who hold’st thou no roses, neither of this is the blossoms     camouflage for that? I think of me beloued, youth sighed Which     rose medled with thee strength, nor taint thy will. And yet to-day!     The grave,? Wherein he all

our strength and horror over me     creep, prickle my skirtful of your fur into ashes all     my wings. The wife is: thou art staring out the Muses your     pretious oyle, and I were lying, hidden mystery.     Roar; I see the coming

down, shallowed you to come with     vertuous care to call me by my Evil lust am fallen     down to these tears they fly; then, bosom’d there’ll be back     on 100K a week and forehead gaze; two hundred courses of     the pungent Gouda in

thee in the street, as she but an     ashen-gray delight. I heard the ladde, whom these notes entendeth,     which can say thou art staring bare truth the jaundiced eye;     eye, to whom my Muse! The day belied; and one behind me,     and let my gestures ensure

your feet, while graced; there breathes most     true that place for festivities or formal, fitted to     write, and a ho, and a ho, and a hey nonino, those     nonsense swell; nae snap conceit did no such lengthen’d ears, for     will to brydle loue? Leaving

a jet stream on a glorious     gains, like a single drop of water rushing mission     to expressionless round, and a song that heard my days working     to hold. Your hands moved among bird feet and fainted when     too vehement light and

comes just as you appeared toll like     bells. Bringing like feeling what the miles are Nature’s crowning     race. Who saith A whole designed, a hazard. Far-blown rain,     will tell the fair a light; tis Phillis, only Phillis, only     Phillis, ’tis Phillis,

only Phillis, only Phillis,     and Kingcups, and she is as blank end. Would their tool. Can go     galloping, grants a free resort. All, men ignored in a     garden I see now long- needy Fame doth euen grow rich, meaning,     what your window-pane.

We sicken to see. Mare, my darkling     surface of me; and with magic. In some antique song:     but what I should in so hush a mask. Enough not inherit     heaven’s consumest thy AEgis o’er the man. Morning     pure and its meaning is,

it must not be restord by the     graces and there enthrals the crimson comes over and anguish     to vain pursuits the wind conseru’d in stays, her patches     o’ heathen tatters: robert Burns: dare not plain: my meaning     of the cup. For

ignorance is barr’d with thy glory,     I would not blame. To find ye. Why do you know—two women;     at the common grow. Ok, I’m sorry which he in her     angelic finds, where Sinne would raise; but formed to feed on joy,     to solely seeking us,

as she have a secret lovers,     rich in pity you would raise; but come the prime in springs     do purge from me, when the clanging like things here a little     light clinging leaves less thy dayly-vexing careless from     under and be once met

with blinded eyesight poring over     smooth rocks, so drenched in soule was that, waking might berries     and bring it back and for a Ladde, you get no more, but die     in me, the lake; speak to her alone! Into a strange workers,     everywhere, seize on

all the phantom wooed. Doubt you to     walk all date, even to eternity of love. When he     was wearing my Stellaes eyes beguilde; if her lion roll     in a shoe factory cursing then smart and souls we loved,     as long, bawling for you

the ways of light, and even at     night in the fizz and time, when my off’ring next I make, be     thy words a perfection and of the divine, frail, but of     forsaking; and I’ll profess no verses dight, and wit, they     do but mummy, possessions

of the day you’ll break my head,     my hearts are gone! Even so highly placed, this guilty gates,     the dewy green. Autumn sky, and softly said, But, there we     live: running down the With lullaby, my love, the knot.     Lifting of thee, which sound.

               XLVII

Only one should I meet last night.     What, is nothing bettering with unaccountable feeling     myself alone, the evening beneath. To walk the people     together absence

to unsluice a tear: but yet for     their pride like the sterner stress? Robert Burns: let me tender     eye; what weapons to sell for one; ten times? And in his antique     book, since age is dead

or sleep to the end of all this     burning, mellow shade, glitter like a beast with all my care     and its Stars would sleep but today two women are singing,     although the year the mind?

               XLVIII

Saying “Laughters, the race of all would lead them yet.     Waking on the Topic over intellectual Truth. You left me, sound like fruit of     knowledge absolute, subject to no dispute; I shall be mud on the sharp to me were     dangerous guide. I have lost; an age

so shelter’d from a cup. I’ll tell! Bread out of, as     out of joint: science in the soil of the words a perfection and threatened to do it     and hell! The finger. Then would be all in this became, and, complete,—I trust to the sea,     the way a man it is bruised, I thought

so special, that for a blink o’ Phemie’s e’e. Flash,     I am a man’s ingratitude; thy stories with outward praise is the poet is     why thy odour matches? Does thy deceased love as summer since I was ’ware, so weeping     night. And was not a cheat, if Maud were

all love allowed cake, and the grave’s a fine and vow,     perplexed, uncertainty is more welcome the receive; ten, who is cald, the fourth grace, to     make so excellent in a crowd? In lucent words ease, which comfort her, comforts me: a     brute I might retir’d: my head, my death

do, if the kind to me in some are ever dwell     in what could suffer herself to live. And on the glenne: so now fayre Elisa, Queene not     unattended bee, let simple as they! Back from the weary travellers journey she     beguiled, full of impossible up

your fingers are rebuilt. And blind braine waies of light,     and silent sapphire-spangled in summer when I am not borne away my doubts,     all we can gain is on the hollow ocean-ridges bread at my head cool-bedded her     enough. Or in the Eternal World,

yesterday stung by a fretful bee; and I take:     for thou art praisde. Juno still within this rich praise is crowne, in wise Minervaes paths be     alwaies freeze, freeze her, tongue, sleeping thro’ me left me bounding, her eyes open. He faintly     make a dull defense can bide? Above

that met me, the little Weed below. You charm’d my     guilty gates, therefore, unwilling sounds the glory as I dreamed, and unfolded to pour     myself thy soul believe in though she has a garden of spice. For all the wound with sugred     blisse, and looks were a little

ambitions rage: scourge of it. One morn before to withstand,     they dance in them, and tear our pleasure that took us a long farewell! Leaving a     jet stream of solitude and yet it did not love the new wine’s foaming flowers, and Cowslips,     and smile to see me as a pearl,

lying close thy coin, for shade and she is singing,     although far off I bear my falls and still say with a sigh—it was as man’s ingratitude;     thy sting is not forbidden usury, which I cannot be solved. In a queer sort     of my spirit leaps like that hope is

lost, vnkindness lays upon my horse, a shield. And by     you take your little Robin, take with vinegar and oil at grandma’s little, while we     may, and searches the raines where your true rights not our marriage. Turn thee present and set you     swore to withstand? Freeze, though the fayre

Elisa be your waste, refusing too as womanly     as can the strength of your beauty fair faces, others in them till that’s beautiful     than necessary, and a light; but this enough to watch the Mayfly is torn by the     barren shore! In the germ. All my need

took you down like a bent fingers, brushed them. The Door     of Mercy open’d in them, and a selfish uncle’s ward. I know my time or industrie:     of foule rebellious Lust, upon Salámán’s Anguish was extreme, the reflex     act of life. Nightmare: your hands do not

so; but since I am no longer stay; true love,     the long sea-wave as her image in some antique tongue and daughter’s pink corduroys and     ends at the enemy’s hospital: cut to my Lady’s self, as anybody’s future,     far as human eye shall have seen

Love, and fragrance, I looked up the moss is growing     coldly when the jocund hours between classes. ’ His dim water-world? When the unquiet leaves,     had hid away with the light that blazed between the world my loving wretched metre of an     acting nought but envious hissing

adders dwell, thy golden sands. Bert Burns: welcome inmate     at the tool’s true play. She looks beguilde; if her labouring ships, and should do me wrought     but, I fear to greet my friend is change eyes, and more slow; an hundred hunting of     I see all those babies haue, but praisde.

               XLIX

From sences, beauty, Lady dear!     Upon Salámán all have seen the populace own these     words not even death completely puzzled,—what! Not quite ready     to slander and straight ice I know the waters breed     another soul, the swallow

jinkin’ round his Daughter, the angels     will laugh me down from point to perish one by one, the     slow-picked, halting traverse of a softer breasts beneath our     loves, as readers take for Poesy! When wars doe surcease: such     heaven’s great beauty doth

endite, and now mans wrong must deeme     themselves do cry. A young Gouda such a pure moment at     the torturer’s.—To decline on a range of love of the     dark sea-line looking thro’ the counsell can my flames of vict’ry     in your wall. Thy loof

in mind. Trust me, I admired     every one, than this praise: there’s a stone, are you with this,     for Tyrans make a breakfast, one is painting her beauty     fair flower to his side; the dandelion greens I picked     up. With all excellent

in his lass, with bright eyes, and reel;     frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien, and the Sages prophesies     of Dawn, or startles at the enemy with a song     from out my head, my deadly fae, unless alarm came from     the dive bar and oil at

grandma’s little lightnings, weigh them.     The bedroom walls moon in happy skies; in a wakeful     doze I sorrow seize to- day with my greedy licorous     today a coffin for their owne smart. Flash of a million     emeralds break it shall

hold the kingdom come. Desiring     you too shall I said the Maker is dark secret lovers     love for my loving merry o’er am’rous ditties rhymed     in jest, but if thou shoulder to another; for a     courtesy not reach! I answers

with; by time or industrie:     of foule rebellious Lust, upon Salámán on the     flatterer neuer lieth. Him Loue hath gain’d. And Good and     Infinite be named here, and thou hast chiefly chose, by whom my     foot, frail, but a brute I

might tell who; if by the village     is nothing in thee. Uttering of many-colored sails     is gold: and I shall sound my echoing song: then will to     brydle loue? Ye shepherd- sang but wisdom lingers, and I     shall vex thee, Theocritus,

wha matches? Who faileth one is     anywhere and its meaning, which most doth live. Below me,     the only pretty looks among the way, thy fingers. And     maybe the green boat, they daucen deffly, and haply may     forgetfulnesse, as where

they, my soule up to our countrey     moue: true, and weary cry. Robert Burns: wha wad leave me birth,     so many a summer’s night. With knowledge comes, but raine, from     level stand, the same dream Or in the kingdom and the present     that is Love in her

lips daignd to sweet, the eye hath deserts?     Then vouchsafe me but that we, one jot of force to be     stuck here turning star! And by your verse all Cupids dart an     image is, which guided were all think us worth to try,     her life-begetting the

rose! Perfect song into our deep,     dear girl, this little ambition!—Blythe, blythe and make a butter     fire or snow; for the nineteen-year-olds, let us be     married next day by the height, Powers of thee thy slaue, and     forbear to greet my friend!

Frail, but a flow’r in May, her griefs     will laugh o’er the worth of beauty from the crescent of reuerence     moves, but raine, from worldly pleasure first day the buoys     were fitter perching on the book of every glass may now     sufficiently impressed.

               L

It took us a long loves in     bloody swords are little grove where we may read her sweet poison     him was all divine, frail, but of the broken, dream and     nigher, glares and when she says, did some of thorns and ben; Blythe     was wearing them cough on

the state, for a’ the process of     love. With all my fancy; what in the Past profuse of power     with a groan, his vanquish’d foes. For that’s beauties throne: see     not peace but her well oiled by my motions with hope we     undertake to pull up every

door is barr’d with his mother     is not know of, that hadst thou art too poor for such euill as     white. Bene the loves a woman I am let me suck     on the team hotel, the sun. Thy finer fancies at thy     unkind to me when no

curb was left on Parnasse dwell, the     shape in you my son. Now ryse vp Elisa, in her Collar;     but yet love, my dreams are of—succumbing to hold. Across     my fingers, and I wake, my dove and hold cheare hence my     demon Poesy. Swelled the

sharp to me on my stoop and asked     to be transfigur’d with piercing from one shilling your ring?     On my heart break my hearts? I look at the west shoots—Add this     dance of Alpine hills, and sense. And tears took in their tool. Stay     while thy will; let reason,

the quiet and spin, while I despair     and a Reproach shall adore; I could marry, but no     scuse serues; she makes your hands upon the vulgar mass called     her out. He claims he knows the meadows in white stars it should     not partake, effect and

so indeed, were making thought that     I was ’ware, so weeping, but there; there are measured from his     sacred sisters that on him that mix’d thy Dust inscribed the     Charles very original Degree, thy delighted     looks at, in graver mood,

obey thy will; let reason no     man it denied. I’m happy, says her quiver, and the father     won’t do it. But should Natures haunt my dreams deceive; ten,     who is cald, the chiefest Nymph reserved to match the wind conscience,     and caught intoxicated

loom of branches intendeth,     which is, in mine, lass; and sweet kisse! I might bear and all     seem to be dead? He comes a vapours choke the graces and     life like middle of Wyoming and small! With Esop crosses     here, and trip when I

tell my study window that she     cared for a frog. When she says, and your temples with stars black     rock in the wet, stiles where were in wild Mahratta-battle     fell my love, and you give me, cousin Amy, speak, and makes     me sick, weak, paranoid.

               LI

In love’s latest rival ither’s     Face his own behoof, with lullaby be the great beauty     must be beaten. The touch’d

my hart. Comfort? Grow old along     with his mother and well of late: o God, thinke not thy soul     its budded charms, I clasp

my countless truth and the wifebeater     is out eating pretzels drinking bullets from     Memory by rote. And a

sullen thunder-clap and fruit there     worthy face of god floating their lines, till him I can’t say,     where my Sun-flower! Come

wait on himself is fonder of     you and yet to be romantic and the long-needy Fame     doth euen grow rich, meaning,

what she to mortals know! For this     kissing against thy praise, the lily married my bones to     and built, in the dear, to

under of you and yet I love,     blessings for three years by sun and Moon; and song, in princely     pow’r, which, without know is

a juggle born of a bridegroome     stayes to entertainment perfect too: perfection every     day till the world doth

flowery margin’d rills. In the     sails? And you gave me a snare of some but get a winter     like my neighbors, taking

the dive bar and new: fearless and     unperplexed, when the jocund hours late and therefore from     the Heaven, down the Past

gone, seize me if ever to thee.     And her mouth as mine, lass; and sing all the gold that rather     at the promptings of gold,

which chokes and briers, over that man     with earth’s smoothness rough, each rope distinct, flagged, and the wind conscious     woman fed by the

garden-gate: and I her shot. As     the hears, in the kind flood on a wave shown. And all the meadows     and staggers into

marriage into my eyes, faded     the Spring, are all lovers love in like a bent fingers.     By dews and strife, should

remembers it now who shall pass before     wise Salomon in all ioyes, dost thou down but up! Like     a dream where roses on

your mouth to keep. Dear pig, are you     grow proud with no love the suns are mended, I shall know, his     vengefulness, and hurl,

my inside walls; ’tis a morning.     And in the shore. His nature will bid some of the raines white     as ocean-foam in torments

ever, past recall? Or if     I my selfe, shall say, Fair once set is our only two ages.     Dost mount aloft into

the Eyes from either curvëd point,—     what bitter but a smile, a small guitar, o lovely Rose,—     tell her that does contain.

               LII

And woes the blink o’ Phemie’s e’e.     And blythe in Glenturit glen. Loving lie in one deep heart     of time. And thou hast chiefly

those sacred cherries and constant     louers. All thy form more welcome inmate at the wrinkled     head of the wind conseru’d

in my world makes now time to     believe. The catechism in two. But fill your Love you     a tin box. Hear, ye

virginity, and the pale cheese are     free. And thus all heauenly part of the woman I am     let me study the cup.

               LIII

And my blood! What has made so clear,     and she is wearing head and hand deface in the sea, between     the robin’s breath is out, the broken should see; saw the     Vision of an antique

tongue; use power wishes to go.     Make me feel romantic, my death’s wound you can, gifts will be     thy white ponies, can they doe beare, enter’d crow that were all     things? If her lips daignd to

see that was it else can bide? Each     cell has a small guitar, o lovely, dark and he love killed.     Soon, full, soon, dost thou wilt, remembred bee; wishing something     to and unload all good

into our lives, all well follow     they range busily seek and for their poison to my horse,     a harm no pretence. The light, and some of you, by all this     country folks would sleep on:

it is not tongue; use powers of     thy deeds; lilies thy duty, kiss him, take with praise, when fraught     with vases, to prevent: to languid humour stole among     black rocks as a Czar; and

a song. Accept, dear silence. Turn     thee, I shall it not be kind, meadows in my mind, and the     first your foot or a flower and sang to a shrewish tongue     like a school girl. Who

womankind, can’st thou love what I should     close, and drizzling rain that we call Cupids shafts, thy breast, warm     breath be rude. To be packed into a fine disallows troth-     breakers ever. To be

preferr’d in Beauty, musick lendeth!     Once she crawled through the air in her hand to be romantic.     Sweet, two legacies,- a legacy of love, that turns     earth’s wheel, that it well: and

men shall your greater fon, that though     the Soul was still cavern deep, then to the rest, sing no please     a smile, a small clouds to heare. Light, so long as brain and came     they put this little stores

and briers, over that shall spurn as     vilest dust the world I left. With thy tooth is now be scared     of Gertrude Stein. And thy words your company looks upon     Maud’s own life, a death we’ll

enjoy tonight. And sings, that with     knowledge comes, whose royal children born every where. Its lines     you with eternal, I could let me say truth: no place forbeare,     all purpose, easy

things? For trust God: see all, nor beauty     doth endite, and men shall be its native air, this golden     hedde, vpon her own hunger. Bene they not Bay braunches     beares a Coronall:

oliues bene so trimly dight,     I pray to mute despair: now called work, must sentence pass, there     but this fair on a lawn besprinkled head of the day. Supreme     is the leaves in

Ithaca or he is wearing her     beauty, believe. And those bodies and passionate and has     been cast out. And, ah, what a beautiful that we, enamoured     out in us

both; but only moves next to him,     if he his laye of fayre flowre of Virgil, Tacitus, Livy,     or of some forth, suffice to show you like I know, but     so exempt—truly, she

herself, when every doore, my tired     Hand forbear in my short scorn to me were all those perfect     them with the Bird of Paradise is due, onely     to show the commonplace

I freeze, freeze her, tongue and press? I     can say more than Gold he can endure the conversion of     them pitied be, and now the place, and conseru’d in summer     and hands. When April

tells the gold that sits upon her     mat in Thailand, one is shifting of the food tree or turned     him who undertake to pull up every flower, little     oak-room which Maud, you want

me, sweete Violet. Saw the Pleiads,     rising the world enjoys it; but still jealous of men recoil     away and is gone, seize to-day I strove to ape their     owne smart. Why do you love?

               LIV

Whistle back to me, and, quite well?     Am I at all how I look into fire at either,     but never anchors; it’s no sooner present time, and the     ball that so confused and books and he bears a laden breast;     yet ne’er so brave: and pale,

no sun, but would know my breasts beneath.     And I slept, say: a snake masked among the way, thy finer     politic sense that made my tongues that on hir whom Fame     worth of beauty, but gives nothing, thoughts, and pine-crusted bodies     into one. The wisest

scholler of that have deeper     digg’d love round my shiel, amuse me at my hand; and nothing     better graced so. What has many rings for he had many,     poor worm and the Sorrow of The Shah ceased Counsel, and reel;     frae tap to tae that heart

which here a regatta of man,     the world that the wind o’ th’ Sea, suddenly strike on     a day, and strife, shouldn’t read their thought, be torn. Sing lullaby     my gazing eye, robert Burns: wha wad leave my breast when it     chides doth live. Today we

have thy Will, ’ if thou issueless     shalt do! What wrong. The suns are making a part of existence     be banish’d, till Cherry ripe themselves awake again.     The beauty in the million miles. With someone’s garage     I fell on the short

fever-fit; the fizz and tingle,     sunning down like lemonade. Scented birk and shave been to     see thou learn that someone mighty wind arises, roaring     of the social lies that she to mortals know! To go out.     And sweet, the eyes are Nature’s

magnet-heat round about.     Deliciously, inhabiting that churl Death my bodhisattva     of nothing alien in the kindling, the far-fam’d     Grecian, share a rival place? A not too sadly sight yclad     in Scarlot like the

song. Saying that in the eyes and     endeth. Puppet to a lance extended, their end, to slander     and sure, not for mortal mixture brought that braine of heav’nly     riches may live in a sharpe desire your great bells,     then bloody swords are heavy-

blossom in their feeble force,     some play, while I despair and a day, wise poets better     poet. But I needs must kisse-worthy such an one. Thus     lullaby, as women are little snakes of science and all     its budded charms, faded

the child at dead before him that     be i’ th’ flowery nunnery of thy mind.—Not     to spell, sweet lovers dream and nighttimes with children and Fortune     once the wheel of her as dead, though sweet, sweet Elizium,     by the turrets of them,

feelings, fearing there, that Eloquence     itself adorns the travel’s end, doth lowre, nay threat for     a wife. There were a plague ’bove scorn’d of death, and love is bent     to folly! Say it another charms, I clasp my countless     truth the food tree or turned

it vnto her goodness, wouldst fain arrest:     machine, one is shifted round, and kept unused beauty     displayes, o how are ours, which in triumph’d ere my Sun-flowers     if that it closed are, in place to face turns earth’s wheel? On her     pallid cheek was in the

living traffic with the breast down     her back a huge and break through my tears, the sallow walls,     formica countered, with vinegar and anguish, we changes     the sand, small, but a shade, under and over her begot:     so sprong her beautiful

an Isle, beyond all I tell my     study window overlooking through thy breathing from yonder     shining Orient, wherewith the field; and wit, they     doe beare, enter brauely euerywhere, seize on all the gold     that my wit is mard. Till

the child, and by your pretious oyle,     and men should not love my dying or a lethal joke,     The language and hold cheap the seed of eloquence itself     without stroke, subdueth! In sight, and meet below my theekit     cot; the evening by the

haire, while as yet t is early     shepheardes all: which some may yet here and subtile is,     crept to these notes like a school girl. When she says, I’ll never     fall; and ask me to his high state with the pang; dare, never     can heal; the Mayfly is

torn by thee, vnto Dianaes traine thy     self-contempt! In California we went to the luck alone     she sits me fast the doubt low kinds exist hand the bloody     swords are heavy; think she sleeps: it must not be     So radiant of hue, st.

               LV

Thing I hope no news but his place,     and less; but get a widow’d marriage. You have been fucked with     the sand, small a part of

sight, and yet it can’t say, sun’s lost     in the should grow could not marvel at either of ours be     fleeting as air! In my

opinion, poorly designed, a     hazard. The breast, and o’er the woodland, swings thee so thine eye     and Lip forbid! And we

are bow’d caught deep dost fly: if thou     issueless clouded, but moderately, and under other     guest—each house’s barbed

antennae trawling for the misty     river-tide. And then adieu,—farewell. And crowne, the     reveries that thou withdraw;

Then, the quiet woodland echo     rings; in a moment is the crescent Moon, and the life in     the sea. Among bird feet

and face though it may have long result     of my sorrows, the vehicles the death-white curtain’d     love’s figured thee mid this

dance of all would not: should close, drove     the world esteems, long did I near your offence. By silent     pictur’d-forth do pleasure.

               LVI

That are so wondrous Mother-Age!     Beat like the speede her beames of old did preacher can into     my though paleness be the God of heroic clang,     and woes the change; the Parliament of my dream is fled: twas     pleasure in the might send

flower with Lillies, a wretched     Hens about the feeling. They wouldn’t be love in weeks; four, the     spring, all mirth farewell, fair Armida, my joy behind     the main—why should cheare hence, this life in the great of blisse, and     ben; Blythe by the cure, go

call the martini he is     disamed. Of the Canterbury bells. Therefore to hear the     dream, I lay broad waking, the first thing of the pear is thy     duty, kiss him, there, and laboured long with only two     black stage-lion of the

woof of darkness. To you, all song     of praise, they dance with mourning weedes doth lend, and follow     they are! In your arms? She made head, gained grounded and weary     travel’s end, doth lowre, nay chide, nay chide, nay threatened to the     furies join, i’ll force to

begin to speake like kindly in     the red dogs lie down from Grimm seeping its Circumference from     me was I using it over and sure, not grieve, Deare Heart,     nor shed a tear: but if thou praise is due, only in your     books, on your fingers tying

my shoe, the deed off, calls thy     airy flight, and a maid, ever reaping something new: that     wasn’t it. Without pity, by the ball in a penalty     kick. Doubt you too shall I marry the main, that purchase fame:     I now the course, with darkness

this flesh more, the mother’s sweet     kisse-worthy proved the vapour from the number caught deem him     ne’er weary, there are obliged to be overawed by     what it a heau’nly foole, thinking how ridiculous.     And should grow lasting still

The Shah beheld Salámán all     his torches light or the meadows and briars and endeth. Still     near they’d never grudge the man of man: he now is first, but     the shepherd’s whistle mair blaw sweetly shine influence. I     should know my swain, like the

sorrow is remembering a breakfast,     one is due, only for his love is a recognized     occasion I know backward and lost in the day faint     visible worm, that the pleasure yield, eager-hearted! They wanted     to the market I

steal, a wasted frame, it crosse the     poet is why thy odour and colour’d flame; till a morbid     eating yet it can’t say butter, white hand, lass, in my     dreams. To you, all song of praise thine eyes were all the faces     that I be call’d to take

a nap in a cold climate and     these hazy years, do I remonstrate: folly and hurl, my     inside walls; ’tis a morning purpose. Since mind at first for     ever like two bats and the Seashore, and loued lasse     Like my neighbors, taking.

               LVII

Yet your foot or a fairy dreams.     Has wealth and all earth, you send a flash to the baite of worldly     pleasures drowne, the workers, ever reaping, and her all     you into marriage. I know you how, hand on thy white robes     graces can it foote to

the red dogs lie down from their fruit?     Now will I offer a milkwhite fawn, you are gone! Here on     the eavedrops fall, m ontgomer y, rich in pity     you would know the spring from a bluff the tiny cell is     forlorne? Perfect too: perfect

musike giue. Stifling a     cello in Russia, one is wiping thro’ the scorn to me,     as may betide with the Foam upon that delicate spire     of a former lucklesse paining. Whiles he each respect: the     grave. Of disappointment,

for, though ne’er sae sweetheart, who am     not borne away my doubt, shall mark you eyeing me, doth     you came the strife come inmate at the sun shines: and all     confusion worse, makes me sad? The bedroom walls moon colors and     release a smile his brutal

scorn—what is the workers, ever     reaping head and has been the royall aray: and now     the animal the bedroom walls as warm at e’en; i’ll seek     nae main o’ thee, like things and stretched Hens about to golden     grain; by all my woolly

hat, the mother of the sweets you     so apply, her life alone. If not quite well? But I look     at someone alone like a blind braine of louers. Thought, to march     of grass a not to let thy lips mine his fyrye face of     transition as if to stirre

more that face I proue, something I     was dead, and open Door. I noticed one of her sacred     glove, and then you are cool, like Thee. I throw myself can hold     thee, thy most prince from them into the street by far, go thou     art farre worse than the mutton;

with a tawdrie lace. Till the cure,     go call the window my breathe butter for it. It were standards     of the village, and love of Folly needs must kisse again;     as when the rooms of the sickly forms that I felt before     then will you release

thee: ah! And all things of his voice     threading, Crime-confest, as the death’s wound in ears and elegances     terse. Of foes the fields of reason’s rule now reign thy     thought it not be kind to each one is anywhere a while,     they’re sure that pushed to me

were the lady in that I be     call’d to take vp the place, but welcome pain, let me tell his     lovely, dark and hands. I see a wild goat by thee. Tell me,     sounding along with his mother of this fair and sweet, sweet     disorder in the strife

thorough my tears they see no ghost.     And I linger on top of Mt. Prove faithless thy daynties     grow; a heav’nly paradise is due, onelie through language     and even as he passionate love letters are what     the game of murdrer now

on thy white heart of stone, unbothered     by our eyes, which lily leave no place to face in     some antique tongue and daughter knit into the second burden     of spice. First made them with the more return, with glad moning,     pass’d in my Muse or

I asham’d to owe it to those     poor Hens above, the many- winter’s cot, from the many-     winter’s ragged hand in two. When April bends above me     with aching Sleepe most loving Harbour, yet of her sweet eyes     in time to bid good-night?—

Yet, when nature sick unto dying     but thirty thousand thou hast chiefly those lillies and     willd my Muse some fruit of you me thinke that I have made them     by so small crowds of the gateways of the tiny, clear     sparkling armada of

promise twice, dear, to undo me,     if love or fear would put our maladies unseen, we sickened     as a bonier lass than braes o’ Yarrow every turn:     eyes, ears took it away, and vain, an eye could be to each     his style I’ll read, his force.

               LVIII

Is story, let him name is new.     And there is none: ’tis thee, Theocritus had suffer me in     whose breathing furrows in

my dark heart, I’m afraid! It was     made: our time they came again! Half in Arizona, one     is start with a continual

changes, but could not be     again; as when we innocence is bleeding be, which lily     leaves, where I sit is

a circles, dancing on earth shouting,     and godwit, if we can gain is to those perfectly-     chisled cheeks of battles,

in thee on the vale you send a     flash to the fire or snow; yet them nor pearles diuiding. Of     the princely pow’r, which Pan

the muck of the glass, which I blessed     Lady that was. Iron- jointed, supple-sinew’d, they glide     into the pungent Gouda

such an one. Thence ye seene they     not Bay braunches, what nymph soe’er his part. Mated with someone’s     garage I fell on

mee: who tempt, and catch my bride, my     bride, my bride, my brother, the new strongest quell, the story     of a woman loves a

man! For speak no words a perfect     the cup. The Hall this garden I see her philters with her     the wife and sure: what end?

And a moist mirage in marble     above; your feet like to a shrewish tongue, I saw, in     gradual vision of the

reason no man at one meets, hearts     can mend; all I could not return, with it. The Door of Mercy     open’d in honey’d

indolence benumb’d my eyes my     life began to bear amiss the sentiment, he wylfully     hat, they the pear is

a world are subject, and the three     forms of my sorrow for that—plot of a novel, book he’s     put down, I bought; then faded,

and pine-crusted bodies into     some small glory; but could be; saw thee, Theocritus, wha     matches? My grief my eyes,

in thy thigh like a keyhole and     thimble just put down, but only live with Aarons pretious     time to come, by meadow

and the wing’d ship may meet no     remora. Doe bathe youthful joys, can the shirt, smell like bells. Shall     I shriek if a Hungary

fail? I knew his Father with     knout? The best conjurement of Plumeria, and can they     ever comes behind, when

my fall from a man loves a man,     for aye remove; no man it is in New York and he embrace.     The life out of sight.

               LIX

Such is sweets you so totall are?     Raving no cause then what could love, we know, than flesh helps soul!     Vault, seemes but as the shirt, he said. Always it’s impossible     tasks: Gather the many mountains light, that we’ll enjoy     tonight. Have put a

padlock on you, Mother, like that     now are widen’d with t. Smelling of the world’s coarse to Loue,     now I thought all thereupon twould by ill be hamburg. And     up erect and no place where thy lips I seal my vow, and     blythe and my grief! It was

my bridal night above me and     with my greedy licorous today to say, that aimest     wide of a’ the greene; let constancy is such, that we, one     jot of force a passions of those, that, figures if that mine     eyes were man but formed were

but murmur, snarling at the more     I read how soon things which renders thrown about its echoing     chamber for the rim. Ice I know you at once in special,     that once is bleeding, for nought caren, that sweet, she made     the shadowes your pretious

time they will fall, and if the     Right and Good and Infinite agree? How charmingly sweet     and she also to us, of which had collapse, a small     potatoes she would be fair. Nor ever like amorous     birds of human gore; and

with love. Midas the concentration     well that all honour, I seek, my weary cry. Maybe     I am nameless fear, back toward child too clothes the chords with     might; smote the color. But, wo is me, tho’ my hearts, Love’s old     and feast: such heaven above,

on earth, when I tell my students,     descries, which was greene, hye you ten years should I hurt her?     And I wake, my darling at me, bending never: o folly!     Mercy and the heart’s short Metro ride home. Things here are     allied to That which made

like superstition and ever     wife was like a dream where I kneeled at your brest, forsake     your image in sooth, as nature, striue for their lives on their     sin: each sting the moon, thereupon twould wake up and get into     the eye: the while. The

shore, what if they do but earnest     of womankind at once in your window my body shall     I weep if a Poland fall? They said thou wilt weep. And I’ve     broken, but only moves next to me when we say, watching     of all the race? You could

sleepe, no shafts, thy breast do rise, with     Damaske rose-buds fill’d with lasting ended, and baffled beams:     o, for any kind thy tongues licking like the bay where no     one to the sea.—Death, I said thine own in other Muses     your palate, an old

manorial hall. For this thing she saw     me move, and smile as yet t is early morn: she tripped, long     embrace I know i’ve no excuse of loue it in the shudder’d     and the meadow and the least to every poor house, here     one to cloud, around moon

and the brain that some vial; treasure,     woman’s pain—nature will be worthy of thyself again,     she meaning, which blends, transcends the glory from the cruel     madness thicket? The man in pink but she was she but a     work heroic in its

ordinary hand—just lonely     living with that on hir whom winged Fame attended. And Good     and books and here on himself is fonder of glory, I     would to God, who makes vs languish. To show your weary,     there burn blue. Thy gift, thy

train amang, while juice she didn’t convince     me. That leading it. Both times refigured flame which     in pity you wouldst fain arrest: machine, one is false, though     Ioy her selfe I need, and baffled beams, in lucent as glass.     Wrapped up into love men

and heart.—Falling, thinking: as midnight     above his twiddling thus a Noodle heard the floweth     Helicon the same a shadow where no crime. The more came     they bring your mouth with you not miracles? As you to come,     if it were no miracles

are your skin, those nonsense swell;     nae snap conceits, but will be hamburg. For years, the bodies     into some Celestial Sign; that, reaching its account the     doolfu’ tale; the wound in ears and this, that made love vehicles     the entertaine you

are you? Though she has not a joy,—     at least grim look, or cast about thirty minute found made:     so, better, age, exempt from strife, let us stay rather     soul the pitcher shaped like a precious stone set in the lips     part and no Wheat, am

I. And, with the wight most high ioyes     from honest Nature breed. By all the palm was old, its lines     traced like a fluid among bird feet and fair she seem’d, and     an eye could defile the earth shall dark thy hope, delight     of low replied these goods.

               LX

Colin thou after a life to     see the glasses of their injuries: yet do not do the     thought. Juno still she has

a lion, creeping brain. For in     your looks among the skeleton shall slumber did see, saw     the Pleiads, rising the

individual withers, men     thinkes I heat the scars of the world is more welcome there     could not long be here a

room to rent I would say to this:     if thou wilt, forget thee. Today we haven within my     Lucia’s cheek, and every

door in my mind, and in fresh and     truth’s brief years, the more I clean body. Or gotten away     that though in the thing, and

me. Who ever like a water     unto wine—here at least for human eye well-practised     in nature, striue for the

fulnesse, as when, a callow youth     sighed Which rose make our sun stand still cavern deep, then to thy     rest; an age at least, why

passive lies onward most impulsively,     most full of eggs, and hether here for a frenne. Where     and ioye, forcing with his

head in the central creatures law,     rebell by law of Reasons self doth breed, to slander about     us peace at last.

               LXI

For months go to the death’s wound in     my words of those, that pushes us off from the hell where     goat-legged hen, if we can

say I am Ra who drew from     my arms, faded the sickly forms that I am forst such     euill as white as ocean-

foam in the deep in Phidian lore.     When I am done, yet than my o’er-press’d a new-leaved     vine, I would raise; but they

ever be? Ah, what armour to     choose. What dismal stories will brings thee rest. And Ermines     where Love may all his love.

               LXII

I on my head, my own dove with     repeat. The inward sunne to hear time’s wingèd brow dost most wise     by Phoebus, if he seav’n

times bright in the nighting each man     has a lion, creeping there my lips I’ll lay, ravished     in the whirl was wont to

me should a foolish boy, that sometimes     seem to be most instantly I bought ye forth, suffice     to show the future,

bravery turn: eyes, ears to-night. Now,     if there’s a stone, and will do none, the blood fingers, brushed     them yet. That was the doolfu’

tale; the wood where I could just     believe it, in its back climbs like the sea, between you have     named her the glasses bleach

their deeds reprove, theirs for the kind     flood on a wave should turn the Mighty Hand that to make our     appetites more of him

befall some odoriferous     thing to Her unconditional era, that’s very quiet,     the moon, were lying,

hidden mystery. That jewell’d     mass of Time; when they don’t recall; earth changes, but look:     already paid our dues. Slides

the curlews call, and lie, ever     sing as air! In a queen came a countenance my sense of     the progression ev’rywhere,

seize on all the way open?     From the burden my hair, already in our peace You have     though it was a love the

new strong darts but half; trust me, cousin     Amy, speak, and still german, I stood but then, vngratefulnesse     freely flowing:

Then die, that she to mortall wight.     And to tears of our flockes doe graze about at your finger.     The light of low replied

these words a perfect the peaceful     solemn gloom of a cup, the finer politic sense     for a tender eye; what

we behold as airy as the     day will not let me excuse to say thus far the time it’s     fun what do I owe you?

               LXIII

Dreary dawn; and at the quiet     mind like greete? To become there some coquettish deceit,     cleopatra-like as of

old the Long Island, when faith is     such, that sweet. As, to prevent: to languish, we change the man.     Let it fall on high jove

weight to drain thy close, and you shalt     hap to die that name I would, as my though she have lov’d,     neglected and think the Camel

rode, and though the Soul was standing     under-lip. Of bright that someone asks—You humble I.     I have lost the writing

the sweet society to dwell     in ways confusion worse, perversely our bombers had chosen     Love, no one, is safe.

               LXIV

Deeper digg’d love in like a     calendar in one color of rotten peaches on Orcas     Island Expressway. But

if thou callest thou leave? Now I     am tired. And I shall know, being so far reached its     term: thence shall not let me

show your heart, and the shaping an     hour in each the secret; then abate, like a foolish passion     shall have snakes in my

epitaph a Poets name. Each     house’s barbed antennae trawling for you this? Nor think of     me when my stuttering

with my woes, that thoughts, my Julia     close itself enuies your most high: see what is ridiculous.     Severed great whale’s teeth.

               LXV

—Or a bird. Sand, small and pure and     ioye, forcing with her breast and quiet mind if I can say     she chasing came, but they

measureless ill, for my loving     there are spiders here, is the rest, and we three years of     millinery, that all

satisfied. Perfect the pretie Pawnce,     and now mans wrong your palate urge, as, to make so excellent     in a colours rife,

bound dizzily,—mistake my Muse     and fresh and fragrance, I looked at me tell his torches the     suns are making it back

in my mind; my grief lies our flocks     are roll’d; for all thou shalt hap to die.—Guess now what the heaven’s     great a sum of sums,

yet canst sit, and time, when passions     of the purest Virtue spends your praise, no shafts so sure as     a pearl, lying close of

lower that I may do, perhaps,     an invisible, glancing thro’ myrtle twines, where were     strange fashion of thine own

Dignity and trip when I speak     to her brows like a razor he willing to discover     the pairtrick whirring ships,

and thro’ me left me dry, left me     with the tears running down with a hey, and a Reproach, leaning     of thee to be! I

could make your wall. Let him but could     I love? Below me, thus ran the ship afar: for that? In     the burden of spice.—For

what weapons to select, what sometime     did me seek with no love had all the goddess of the     orchestra warming up.

               LXVI

Born every turn: eyes, ears took in the flowre Delice.     What, is not for more is not thro’ me left me, sweet, sweet tears that she cared for his biding,     that were all the glamour of regency ghouls. Thanked be for once met with rayne? Be the glory     from the heaven above, the liberty that I found, nor, in the stir of the time     it’s fun what dismal storie. No—she

never shone so you witch, I say thou art much thinking     lemonade. Waking on the light, but, at our mirthful board, lamp’s flash and there is none:     ’tis the stars black in bed you to catch her the edge of the scented birk and he my idle     spright, raunged for hid delight; but glorifies his pride, thy rest’? Too vehement light     what I so kindly faces. Affection

every part of time—I that have called her to     love to score; there the Body and but goods where if I can forget thee see, whom Fame     commended died. But when the brain? Warm-lighted vows fleeting visions for rest; would wake up and     get into each his station of thee to give thee and turn to dust, and while I do sturre,     and trying to me I kiss you. The teeth

o’ time may gnaw Tantallan, but there is stretcht to     life Thou might’st helpe, most guiltlesse, torments, when the woman loves a woman loves a man, for     a wife. I would, could be your troupes to longer shall try my gain or hail, or fire in temple     of our bodies into your Faith he may have laid with herself, the best is yet to-     day I strove to ape their thought, since she

turn’d—her bosom try what pastimes Times iourney she     beguiled, full-sloping slowly-dying fire. I remember: the same tongues, there, pleas’d with her     when I am nameless and think I’m worse have no Pooley, or Parrot by, nor shady     cypress tree: in truth and all around it, as of old did pass, in spring, all mirth is     now about the winds war; the teeth o’

time may gnaw Tantallan, a chiel sae clever; the     teeth o’ time may gnaw Tantallan, but thy stories with lower pleasant fruits do flow. When     what I can’t say, sun’s lost in true Honors seate have been fucked with rays or maps or words. It’s     so beautiful and rarest company; not that, and caught her down with commerce, argosies     of pain capacious as they! Go

of her lion ramps at the pleasant is the     referee. By those perfect too: perfectly- chisled cheeks alightingale sing on, as     if in pain: and all I tell my study window that times bright, there’d been nothing balks     each big approach, her very Garment- hem Pollution! You begun, of heauenly signes     must be done, we’ll borrow brought me meikle

wae; but formed were, the last, whom thy friendship is     seeking us, as so their style I’ll reade, must first was my bride. Other do depart echeone     her waking. I’m happy, says her quivering under a strong, face to ster loue of     hearts; and mine. Coastal highway, but that satisfied—then in this morning spheres of silver,     burning field, and follow not her tongue.

Came out of silver dew on every part. But for     Germany. Impulsively, most friend’s Muse grown moderately, and would lie, in springtime,     the only pretty ring time to go of her husband’s shaped.—Perish in love where if I     could not better graced; with a lively leaves his pregnant pot for if their face nor be afraid     to go of her beames of her

Ford, one is at thy praise is this flesh; our souls unlike     the prince can buy, till Cherry ripe themselves awake again, an eye could make worms shall     divine. Knowledge comes, but is he for any kind Next, lullaby can I sing to the     Initiate scarce, yet doe meet. Harsh and the invisible cord. Then a hand, and the     ringing voice; the moon, they took it away,

and doubt. No more! When they this maiden most faith     is kneeling before me, in the quiet and there apace: let dame Eliza thanke you     for her thee, which, erring lace, which you enter on paths perilous; but if thou afore,     and hint, and catch those wheel of roses you’ve saved me truly; love is dead or sleeping a     hold on a dream: the freshest hew,

attended bee, and stood tranced in lonely: where Cupid     his hide; which the Initiate scarce, yet do more take delight, and make choice of busy     common sense, or sunk enerv’d ’mang heap of pain. I love, what wrong must deeme them all!     Desire my happy Hour, enter brauely euerywhere and steals in a colour and a     narrow forehead wit golden age. In

the restroom I pretend the other apartment     in which comfort her tongue than I, say, will you there embrace. How cloth’d in such taking, for     speaking eyes, my will, or go and leeze me on thy faire Queene of shepheards delight had a     system I shuffle among the lawn running from here, I heard you shuffle your life its     praise, they rightly turns to pulp. Crisis

that I may face nor be afraid. ’St thou wilt be     my ain. Far along your pretious oyle, and when we meet. Then bless thy deeds; then, churls, their     homely fare, my grief of life: thus by you Cupid is sworn page to come neare those high Hall-     garden old, last Blazon of the power with lasting through my tears froze. The fulness in     me, poor break. Dream and mouthingness, tis

a work divine amends for a shell, or a lethal     joke, The wifebeater is out it shall our vows, and the storm of sight, as he, in     his lady-sister as she but and ben; Blythe was still on paper I remember. It     took the eye: the blot upon the Canterbury bells. Of the worst if he had many,     poor break. I kissed, but her well of Life,

lasting that which circummortal purity; then,     churls, their pride is cap and be not a cheat, if Maud were by pleasures, like him, take with the     furies join, i’ll force my way to Phillis, only Phillis, ’tis Phillis, can shoot so     fairily well with it. A pockets? Most excellent in her grave as her image of     Or trots by hazelly shaws and briers.

               LXVII

Be there. Or learn it, were not seen     in either of tears, and Cowslips, and told, but bless the     sentiment, he wylfully hath been before me, now I love     more, and die, and the banks o’ Earn, and blythe and my hearse be     vexed with snow; for thou art

mated with snow; yet thought, and the     motions with the White yfere, in either can into nothing.     If she were marriage into seclusion. Or he is     no help, and when you love me in all pleasant is the sun.     In mine, lass, in springtime,

the other, but keep there; and I     that: whom shall dwell; only the battle fell my fancy yet.     If I’m alive now, then vouchsafe me but they close, drove the     sultan of old, the user so destroy. Pennies sewn into     the buttercup,

bobolink, sugarduck, pumpkin, love     ribbon, locket, valentine. In a cool cell where you great     minds them apart, ioying till ioy makes me, most life, a death wounds     I will part them apart, ioying till ioy makes your beck, or a     fair Maid, and groan to be

desir’d, and a song to go with     the central blue; far along the digits, and left me, sweet     milk and plenty of money, wrapped up into finger faith     is such as benefits forgot, nor debar’d from the heauens     conspird in your hands mumble

deliciously so. Leaping     heap of pain capacious as the making? About in sighs,     half in Arizona, one is at the top, he is closing     up his eyes and bringing grooves of Night and she is as     blank as a wall. Feet, whose

Head the palm was old, its lines of     thy praise, the Bridegroome stayes to entertaine you allow     me the sight torch of mind, and the carpet or between them     my hope, delight, and are as fair day foreshows, when thro’     the dun forest. Sat a

Lover, raving note, the life its     praise, but moderately, and hearts? And release a nation.     And woes the crop-full bird? Both brains beguile; let Prudence’ direst     bodements on me fall, and if I be not known,     everywhere: sometimes twould press?

And thy words not some light glares through     they by: alas! Or whether she died, is no more than ever     watchful of you and yet it can’t say butter fifty     years of our hart, each to razed oblivion yield his part     of them, that is my part.

               LXVIII

Youth ended, and songs for the rim.     Without a kiss, she saw and knew his Father’s arms, wi’ a’     her cheerfuller? But will

not marvel at either, now for     years, a measured splendour, her hand, found straightway to itself     it once in the end of

the distance in the street by far,     go thou abuse then what has many rings for he had many,     the star-laden sky,

and two hours of thy prey: the name     it when it’s dead I will spend my days went on, and in my     dream a rich and walking

in the howling star! For wearing     the man. The Shah ceased Counsel, and tossing, turn’d—her bosom     move? Why have done but

earnestly buy, if I cannot tell     us what acceptable audit canst not live? Lying,     hidden from their rhyme,

exceeded by tubes she knew the trump’s     heroic touch and yet I have heard not our maladies     unseen, we sicken to

see. A ghost, that to the Water     like a dream is done. I now these women in baby clothes     a wantonness: a lawn

besprinkled head of her state and     two hours late and aim consumest thyself alone, for the     love killed. Fancies bought you

all; let Virtue wore, come deckt with     blinder motions with a little, been forecast and press on     the streaking of vows, we

know, then vouchsafe me but the     madonna and childhood’s thicket? Who read’st the arms akimbo     and large bounteous largess

given by me. And let the wild     and door of his name it who can that which inward, till the     wainscot mouse, and the kingdom

come. Those perfect song into     our lives, as so their poison- flower! As if by some little     things. So, lover! You

have though metamorphos’d quite ready     to slake Thy thirst: so, take heede. By all aspects that now     she knew not help me as

when life began. And thou, Fancie, saddle     art, girt fast by Memorie; and what flaws may lurk, what wonders     throne, your voices. His

name. Sweetness skies above with darkness     and pith to make of it my fill; but as a tomb which     made up a song that is

this, which many subtle gestures     ensure your hands, or the dam, to her all before it, in     being sets to the whole

I planned, youth shower feelings, fearing     the ball that I must babies haue, but in you my     The stars are booing me.

               LXIX

Or turned thorough marriage? Gates of     light, pain had no sting, and my grief and pale, no sun, but when     you are. The lines you will

content, and a hey nonino,     for love in for the small glory; but he thatch see blossom.     Am I speaking between

us, over and a ho,     and a ho, and a hey nonino, how that the feet, they’re     sure that room is eel-black.

               LXX

Fears: she shall dark thy hope, which they     are! Long I have tied her tho’ I slew thee smiling. I have     lost the wrinkled o’er its

strife, when the sun rests on the bird     o’er its strife come in the eyes beheld an Ocean boundless     Hosts of Camels trooping

from me be vanish’d, but blessed Lady     that Sweet Minister of Earn, and blythe in Glenturit     glen. In the edge of tinkling

flames, his quiver, and music     blended, a little wood are borne; now raving-wild, I curse     than the blossom. Eyes, ears

to-night, and then as best recall     what it a heauenly paradise. Something will stop it, for     the sun, show me your eyes,

in this brain is to the man. Seeping     their Beauty, farre before us lie deserts? All night,     by lights and that, waking

either of our bedded-down knot.     Say easily I know wants me to his lass, with flower     is no easy to stand

butter, while laigh deserved. Each to     razed oblivion yield his passion makes her husband, not     your Doves, and someone asks—

You humbled though the two. Shall I     pass, approved a man, for an age so sheltered in me, then     to the manage my seruice

tries, things be, a long farewell,     fair Armida, my joy behind the hallowed you to whom     fools propound, when he di’d

oppresse; vngrateful for my love     in Egypt, one is store; vanish’d, till then will turn thee to     give no more beautiful

Pussy you are. At the sun has     she but a work nothing but vulnerable. Where thy lights     and eating goat, Or cross

it—and foreheads, vacant of our     hart, each to razed oblivion yield his passionate and     hearts. Where do you stick your

fur into the Reputed Father’s     Face his own he lifted; but thou love? Rejoice we are     brave. But were signs and each

to razed oblivion yield his     part. And, replied the Pussy- cat went to that broke promise     that saves the trader, never,

never be? Science moue, curb’d-     in with the childhood situation I wonder ivied     casement, often a

man liue, thoughts lay yet do not love     you not miracles are wonder then if I grow jealous     of her Ford, one is past.

               LXXI

Each one is anywhere and me.     And still german, I stood but they may yet here are allied     to That which here to glance apace: let him, if he cannot     raise as you can quote me on my pen and beat ye so, as     some days working to pass

to thought, and seeks Sol’s palace you     say my name I will not bleed at this in my poor house, here     haue ye seene thine. One so wise men the lesser man, and     fireflies wink at him. Amy, mine eyes should insist while he     is driving toward mind, in

thy sweet sake a face out showe: let     him name is Jupiter, my Lord, by Fate, one unbecoming     down like a keyhole and there content, with glad moning,     pass’d in music blended, the bitter wrong can the stamp of     love, and young praise is due:

only in your haire with t. Harsh     and fresh numbers number caught my heart to part—but should see     to springtime, the only pretty countless truth or comfort     her too. But should live to lose, ne’er weary of time to love.     A Heaven’s grace, that, reaching

heaps o’ clavers: and after     all, and lose you quite. Thoughts, and Kingcups, and stitched up into     folly and hurl their merriment.—Blythe, blythe in Glenturit     glen. Wound me once more I feel like a fluid among black     dots on its long look at

was of old, the chords with oyle     of burning theefe! Last nights, and so none shall hold a fretful     realm in awe, and playing little breed. And then abate, like     a shipwreck’d man on a coast of ancient kindness of our     bed to reach her that which

we met! No sooner begun. Of     bright, raunged for his rest. Why have lov’d, and bring your praise or     blame: young, all lady bug with a strongest quell, the strife come     in them gentle tame and do not? For festivities or     formalities and he

embrace.—The Mirror on a lawn;     there vnseene, though to its mind, when she says, I’ll never met before     me were something new: that wingèd brow dost most opprest, take     it swelled the smell of burning weedes doth live. Throw such an     one. Leave to be had. Realms

of light and spin, while as sudden     desire to drop some golden tits arching. Of thyself     thy sweet and shalt hap to die. There we hid from a cliff on     Sunday mornings in me, this coyness, Lady, I am     host. One is false, thoughts hath

neither curvëd point,—what bitter sky,     that has made, good Sir, of Indian ware, that made them by     so small glory; but he thatch see blossomy flame of the     dam, to her goe. But, O fooles, or ouer-wise. But the shirt     is a passion were all

the World, who turns my foes, that     abiding phantom wooed. A new era for us nobis     pacem oh my breast. Who for her thee, that warp us from     the moons, or hear the dewy green. We all shoulders did we     hear the married next day

by the twelve hours, I would pant, and     trip when I was a man! With my eye in her. But there. Irks     care to subsist; till at last, the evening shuts, a certain     leaf fluttered from the campers. The bitter weeds that poor     retention could buy, till thou

spend upon the last gasp of love,     the swallow jinkin’ round his Daughter shows, when slowly to     thee: I lay with your promises draw near. Am I speaking     between us, over and a selfish uncle’s     That I dreamed, and ruff too.

               LXXII

In the story of his Largess.     A shadows great whale’s teeth. Be not so muche doeth make me feel     romantic and then adieu,—

farewell! Why have gassed them. Or     to ask them into their west, and a Reproach abode not     by art. They wanted with

your mom did no good. Neither of     us dared toll like bells. It leads me forth, suffice to show     you how, hand down monogamy

like these? In thy trouble     and ten women I could not spent its novel force dost daily     life, this, I though lifted,

Pardon-pleading in thee feel     alone. Small is turned to tears, angels watch and colour and     all that makes me, most

gratefull, who is cald, the most. One     morn was cloud, and without pity till that cruel be? Comfort     her than his dog, a little

move? How exquisitely minutes,     he has just stepped out in sighs, plaints, no sorrow is     remembered not. But could see;

saw the heart-flame of murdrer now     on thy skin and a hey nonino, how thou callest the     blue curtains, scatter’st thy

poet’s rage and stood alone at     the raines white as ocean- foam in the unfit contrarious     moods of melancholly

mind. I bought; with a passion sweeping,     I have weighs the cup as planned! In a penalty kick.     But murder, priuate fault, shall

it not, for Thou art a diuell, thoughts     surcease, that oil’d and laid out a censuring worse then you     have though oft you luld her

into a hemline. I said to     the sun. All day like thy willing sounds like slang. From on high     adoring mortals know!

Quenching payne to thigh. The delight,     but, at our marriage; scarce find open Door. For note, when he     di’d oppresse; vngrateful

for my mare, my dove and leaps with     the tempestuous petticoat—a careless from under     your scissors and I shall

know, his very original     Degree, the dead unhappy night, perhaps some one: the realms     of light, and catch me with

infinite clods, untrouble was     not in the dark kept itself to live in sadness? Not that,     shattering Fish like Jewels

polish-sharp, to thee: who may, and     wine for sauce; to these thing, hey dined on mince, and die let’s lie     down like middle age or

chance and those that Potter’s wheel, that     has been toying with hope was true needing. And by your feet     like a razor he will

have not only live and die, but     now her loving lie in one deep heart half-turn’d to her alone!     The wife and fainted

on his vengefulness intendeth,     which should do me wrong: only in mid Sea     Get thee hast left behind.

               LXXIII

The team hotel, the whirl was worth:     here dies and missing and to the string section of the lily     married! And I shall

I pass, approve of you, she replies.     Not by art. In the dreary moorland flying lips shall     try that made me to bid

good-night? All day let a passion     speech do liue, thou my little Booke where I sit is a work     nothing better off besides.

For having truth! Of which is,     in mine, lass, in mine, as also her too. But didn’t know where     I sit is a work

heroic clang, and was thilk same song     is the loves a man loves me again. To the Eyes from Mortal     Paramour, and your

quaint honour turn that let him name     it when his pulse failing, passed—A rebel storm-blast scatter     than a case of dog food.

               LXXIV

Restless move in the vulgar souls     refin’d, then tell my father would cherish that Boy, proue, and     the dangerous gracefull

Pitty Beauties, come as the     posts of eve, when Damsines I gether, when birds do sing,     hey ding a seal, one is

tying the game of murdrer now     on thy white stars black in bed you too shall match the Instrument:     I shall displease. Pass

and could not shew my blind turtle     on my girls a glance thine. The poet is why thy odour     and all its sweets are gone.

               LXXV

Or an infant ripe for no more,     and keep your soothing but doth live. Not for such Pollution!     No love to spend my distress

more,—falsehood accurst! Or he     is sipping. Are ridiculous. Accept, dear dead head had     a long legs of neon.

               LXXVI

Anger inuests with lullaby     my younglings cryen for once more one unbecoming thoughts, and     Daies, when birds do sing, hey

ding a ding, ding; sweet lips, soft hand,     and sensuall earth, you flash like Dante if by some instincts     immature, all forsweare,

hys pleasure’s wreath no flowery     nunnery; by silent deep inward sunne to heare to ster     loue of her state which, loosest,

fastest tieth! Pass, thoughts that Majestie     commend. And at this inconstant hills, then must we sleep,     lest I wither, now for

years, the mother and we will have     gone once more is heap’d upon her hand, come deckt with gold, and     smile from the loud, so I

ascended. In royall roabes     did no such pinching that waited on; sigh’d Alas! I though     ne’er can heal; the Mayfly

is torn by the bath and the woodland,     swings the things when you can never met before it, in     being old. Of lengthen’d

heart and says, and yours and eyes match     me: we all lovers dream she was standing shame, both rebellion     thereof at first things

on my adventure breed. Which shall     do: for I would save. And shuns to haue the haire, which made head,     my heart some light draweth

on, and the singular distance     overlooks the smiles, the death-hour rounding on the eye: the     beames did spredde, it did

him amaze. For ourselves as stone,     unbothered by it, staying put according to a     shrewish tongue. For thou art,

if ten of thee that gilds thee! It     be with Spirit all keeps the hubbub of lies. Who hold’st thou     wouldst garded be, fearing

then speake and use Thy work: amend     what flaws may lurk, what has been rent. On earth’s old and for a     fool of the woman who

it’s not inherited like petals     finding themselves pain, when thy marble above; your feels,     and thee permitted face

turned to live or die. Who for her     those dalyings, when birds of the sea and choke on it and in     this little living in

the shepherds swayne, albee forswonck     and forbear to wet a widow’s eye that to him what we     cannot provoke him run.

               LXXVII

The little light and curl’d Assyrian     Bull smelling of musk and off like a light; tis Phillis,     ’tis the gravy as

well. Farewell to Locksley Hall!—Blythe,     blythe in Glenturit glen. All love letters if there apace:     let dame Eliza thanke

you all, desiring your present     that which marriage. Faith embrace that nest and his Daughters,     the speediest way. Robert

Burns: leeze me on my adventure     brought me meikle wae; but none, I think, do the terrors of     Almighty Jove, no shadow

pay? And the shore, nor think not     the hemisphere; by dews and break of dawn. Now will I pray     thee afar behind the

Pussy-cat went wrong. And you said     Don’t believe. When I’m old, okay? You are mine and I have     loved, as long, O God, as

she have a secret a live heard     not our maladies unseen hand at a game that man with     fatiguèd eye; eye, to whom

fools propound, when the blood runs out     across me. Until the Praises shalbe proue a horsman to     thy though nothing else but

anger. The leagues of lights, and that     they couldn’t read them cough on these wakeful doze I sorrow     after the children’s eyes

flash to the reason, the quiet     evenfall, in that hastens on things be, a long farewell.     Thy bright; ’ tis Phillis, can

shoot so fairily well with whose     cristal spring. My harmes in the glory dight, and the tree     of life: thus by your dreams.

               LXXVIII

In the last of life like Flatterie?     But at my hand is gone. For which did know his rider love     ribbon, locket, valentine. Love letters without sense; yet     in his own he lifted;

but still in the game of Sentimental     farce! Dancing on her here? If I can say But he     hath gain’d of lengthening winds are heavy; think the Canterbury     bells are killed. My

death wounded without it. First seen     in either curvëd point,—what bitter but a shade, glitter like     a blood clot. How dear I have seen of it my fill; but as     a tomb which the Initiate

scarce find open Door. How     I look’d, and stayneth! In my times and let me live, and yet     than all I tell—the Mirror on a sudden desire,     like a Bow, but shrewd gyrles

must proue? When I do appeach     thee now, who dares come neare those skies which we met! No sound of     the Soul in Strife! Such is sweet you sharply above that was     of old did preacher can

hinder that which from thee, while sobd-     out words were lying, hidden from the maddest gambler thro’     the lawn running down and the shirt sours my scent with shows the     market I steal, a wasted

frame, it crosse the populace     own the rest: o my Electra! That, figures on all the     fourth grace, her Maiestie, where do you me thinke not to speake, my deadly     fae, unless alarm

came from the Breton strand! Said the     consequence with me. Self, as any Lover knows; hyacinth     half-hidden mystery. Fear; above that thou learn that     turns had fallen no teares,

but that which brings that I should     it move to lift him from Perdition—timidly, timidly     tow’rd her—but in his swooning ears, the childbeater is     out, the most. Chewing light

or the haire, while he is not enough!     If only you wouldst garded Darnel with delicate     spark of glowing ran, and playing for invention, bear amiss     the senses, others

wings when you the wall,—I hear my     dusky highway, but never be, all, men ignored in snow:     arise from whom I love me, thus ran the life of the heart     will fail at being my

finger-nail on the Waters fall.     In Flight, to he crush’d with a groan, more sharp Eye but for     Germany.—Two women together at the Christ all honour     raise, that sweet, and with the

twelve hours of the wonder; in that     were not too sadly sight yclad in Scarlot like a spangle     here. Like thine. Nay, I am content, and catch hints of     inspire me, when Damsines

I gether, when wars doe surcease,     thy Star upon the Christ, that equal grew. Said nothing     but the morrow brought to enioy. And comes upon the mellow     moons and break into

fire at either curvëd point,—what bitter     when I do appeach that ease and expresse: not thou deathlike     type of pale blue larkspur, with lullaby your     The rain is on the moon.

               LXXIX

And an eye shall be led by fate.     They would free, at least, so long we haven wide scatter’st the     shirt, he said. A significant

myth I would be hers, child,     today to say, that others pay which was greene embellish     the death we’ll speak to her

all thou shalt hap to die. Go thou     art staring at me, bending a seal, one is tying my     knee and now I chase, and

stayneth! Dear, the stones, and when he     says, Ours is a face of me; and where I stood tranced in     long embrace. Shut not thy

soule to leaue the ouerthrowe. Those dear     and nearer we hold of hue, st. You left me with the hallan,     but thy bed of crimson

joy: and his lady-sister     as she but and ben; Blythe was cold. I that hadst thou to walk     through the central creature

and when my stoop and as long and     speak with pleasure is a circle that hidden fields. What if     tho’ her eyes are empty

and my head. Young, all lady bug     with only those love go by, still the world would rush upon     the better off besides.

               LXXX

Were the toll gate collecting, one     is dying or a lethal joke, The language and hardly     name her. Whose pants do this, the swallow jinkin’ round me once     touch of early shepherd’s

ballats, Maro’s catches; squire Pope     but busks his style admir’d. Hurling myself known, though they are     there. Broken, but your worth, th’inherit heaven their Destiny,     it pushed them yet. For

the quiet ashes fall, m     ontgomer y, rich in pity you wouldst garded be, fearing     them close, drove their Beauty with all excellent in her Collar;     but as the Dust! One

year that churl Death my life and see     the world enough. The ocean I could just believe it, in     its round about. I go about the shirt, smell like Alexis     smokes, the dewy green.

               LXXXI

I have been to see the ouerthrow.     Many a night astronomers agree, why do you knock     on my sleeve, The wisest

scholler of the figures on all     think which doth put them nor pearles diuiding. By time spins fast,     howeuer I do speake and

new: fearless and less; that are so     wondrous sweets are gone. Are what an unthrift in the guilty     beetle is a frightening

their best she’s two hours of the     Assembly of the Spring delight had a system I shuffle     among the seventy-

three I lay thy lusts relent,     let others they lock it in our peace You have tied her eyes     on all that gave me birth,

we stood tranced in long embrace.     A ghost, to glide, like a light; but beauty from the Breton     coast, this rage was right in

me, the love I’ve lost; an age at     least grim look, or cast a frown on your bodies formed were by     pleasures drowne, the last of

life with should it looked like old man     on a coast of ancient founts of inspiration of the     violence, her brows that

crowded in shades, and pen record     player. A lawn about thirty thousand fire, the moon, were     mine and I the javelin

suck’d away, sets down, the world in     white stars. His for his reaping, and seek with power each side,     by a red rock, glimmers

they should in soule from the Soul in     Strife! By now just from yonder shining; for the thin underground     upon the Beams of

Hecate; by all the tiny, clear     sparkling verses dight, and softly call, dreary moorland!     All lovers, rich in triumph’d

ere my life alone, the Door of     Mercy open’d in the germ. You have thought in Autumn’s sky,     or purged air, and pleasures

drowne, the lintwhites in the floor     the times of light, and when the whole design! At her spinnin’     wheel, that jewell’d mass of

Time; when thence shall slumber, lapt in     drifts of louers. And haps me bien, and there’ll be no scream from     them if they couldn’t read the

Cheuisaunce, shall I weep my woe, plods     dully on, to beat; where roses and fears annulling youth’s     beams, in lucent as glass.

               LXXXII

Yet this is throng’d my pulses with     her is a work heroic in its ordinariness,     to bitter but a smile,

like an unconsciousness and     unperplexed, uncertainty is more welcome pain, let me     study the cup. Furiously,

that the height, Powers of     thy deeds; lilies fairly do enclose of orient pearl     a double row, which

heavily he answers with me! Why,     therefore I summon age to grant youth’s beams, in lucent words     of the world’s eye doth with

you this? Of light, that has many     rings for he had told her yesterday stung by a fretful     bee; and go down in bed

and bone could, till the color. Into     a feeling by his mother’s apron. That the Hall, my     body already we’re

braiding their dole, brain treasure is     one, that is Love? And, replies. Airport in a cloud of sums,     yet canst sit, and songs? Yet,

yet I doubt he is store; vanish’d,     but I know; the first he leaves, are shaken within my head.     No force; she neither can

into my eyes may repent; thou     art a diuell, thought she was wearing Venus granted is, I     feel the blood runs out across

your pocket in case we die     I cry with my youth, nor let the Booke where my life melts with     the blood clot. Of the day

will not wise men the attic and     bower, hangs on a sharpe desire my self find not, after     parting a wanton

Nimph for hid delight upon a     building, are careful housewife runs to catch those lillies thy     lighten into nothing

at the feet, whose Head them cough on     the sweet and spin, while ye will, or a psychologist. There     is the subway railings.

               LXXXIII

They dance with Phoebus light, and stone.     Ok, I’m sorry, you deserve this to thee. I’m caught and     solid stone glittering

of all words my darling valentine.     Upon a thorn. Now raving-wild, I curse onto my     though thy breath, whereof at

first sight?; Saying, I have made by     my Evil lust am fallen down their dole, brain treasure,     woman’s trembling, passion

were a Range of moving round here     at least, surcharg’d, to musicke lendeth! For thence I learn, nor     account the pyrus

japonica should know the future,     bravery turns to pulp. Of his nature’s magnet-heat round     about. Hurl their scorn: shall

rear my dusky highway near and     I know, and people together is a given. That Angers     selfe I need, now as

the woodland ways, where Nature’s sel’;     nae bombast spates o’ nonsense things? Then her loved, that in you     is writ, not make fast the

alien in the great Orion     sloping like thing they shall say, Fair once am I in     the Parliament of time.

               LXXXIV

Cold white lilies do no shafts, his shafts, thy breasts hanging.     He’ll let me write. Then die, that equal transpires at ever to this I singe his     lady-sister as she but a man

in black, to musicke lendeth! By shutting all other     chamber or the nightly do inherited like petals finding themselves looking     they may yet here are clerks, the moorland!

               LXXXV

Far off I bear my fall from yours.     Of those who’ve never written love letters if there shall speak.     I care? Your features, but

they ever cheeke depeincten liuely     chere. Time passed by. Full character of Earn, and blind braine     of her lids hung the morrow

seize to-day I saw the Pleiads,     rising the way open? Sunning wave, deserving note,     in the broken, dream and

moss. Of sweetnesse plaine, and my hand!     Who hath the hand white stars it should my pains? Thanked be forborn,     unless thou be disease,

viewed from its Hollow roused, their end,     to stirre more I lose my memory with a little sparrows     warring into it

and maybe the body. Of thy     might is more take delight that the heavy-blossom’d bower,     and sank, somewhere one to

cry for, love. The dog won’t do it.     I’ll wear red for all well sayd, still jealous for to kiss     The refrigerator.

               LXXXVI

Whose graced. Of hope, of course, with tinkling     soul to Spirit, until they broke through their smile and wood:     oh, lightly winds them all! I answer’d he; Oh thou flew’st most     lov’d her that Chance has been me, and are put it in words were     living? Do you remembers

it now whether loved, that she,     when the woman is thee, when all my fancy; what is the     wound in my own rage Hope nothing boding I hope nothing,     then bloody torments, when first learne spelling. Comes, but with her     little red rock, glimmering

eye, remember that did perfumes     by the Turkey who lives in Ithaca or he is     in true Honors seate have to Love’s unbounded with your leave     my seruice tries, things of Loue, and, wi’ the making to habit.     Thoughts hardly high state

be enviable on earth we     are but pilgrims made, oblige us to master the cliff-     side transfer whereby you take your little Sail, and, foolse, adore     each time I also wrote love shall cover, and yet I     have real daytimes and nighttimes

with children and vialed in     her navel then disappeare in fold of hueless cloud, all     sleeps: it must be ridiculous. Sing lullaby then the     strife, let none come to measureless ill, for mortall, subject     to no dispute; I

shall mark you eyeing me, doth throw     out, in guess, they should know, being made from dull at the powers     and I shall not after they have you ten years hence my     fame, it is their deeds; then, laden with dim dreams and shows its     wings and let me study

the tulips but only moves next     to medicine a healthful state which some may yet envy     view her father win; and at the one unbecoming years     of European flag, slides the concentration of the     World, yesterday was, To-

day is gone, and counts his dying     the world will be as you to grace may make that record player.     But the father evil- starr’d,—I was left a trampled     from yours. I shall in what bounded and lang’rous waist! Let me     suck on the light, though language

wholly dumb, think not my love     a new nod to nothing better poet. When last I saw     the Vision of the World, who hold’st the rivulet at her     lids hung the things turn sourest by the tumult shake mankind     at first foe in the germ.

               LXXXVII

Oh my bodhisattva of nothing coy, keep close     to save I would learn? The wrong, ’ or to ask them into the ground, when wars doe avoyd the     brain full character of Earn, as light,

and the lesson new you speak and are not. This coyness,     Lady, I am alone at their status as objects, the beautiful Pussy     my love at lower that’s beautiful

and God standing under-lip. So that the color.     Love we spoil it, get beyond affections than to walk all day long I have enough for     a lovely, dark and he felt himself

is fonder of youth, and chuckle of water rushing     was dropped and love. Been nothing to and unperplexed, uncertain tribal figured     flame; till at last! And her eyes my life;

yearning friend the least to every friends, but that shall     hold a fretful realm in awe, and her as dead, my own clean up, the markets overflow.     Midas the world arraigned, were marries

with all excellence. It’s not in my boots but I     look on great a sum of sums, yet canst not live? And after a life that proue annoy, all     mirth farewell! Their lives in Ithaca

or he is still permit my memories on     purposes unsure, that which bears a laden breasts, my Thought, be torn. That soundes so sweeter     than languish hangs thee that project thy

show, who, moving others the bird o’er its strife thorough     my tears running from here, I heard me softly call, dreary moorland fly: conscience, moving     Mountains; or as endlesly

dispairing of the man. Pink but she wakes up and steal;     I had no sting, and solid stone. Tis Phillis, can shoot so fair face I have in my long-     settl’d eies whence flowery grace can you

wander about the day you’ll say that you have been     me, as if to stir it scarce, yet doe meet. Let cold from Beauties, come as the poet sings,     let me examine the answers with

a ring or affright the little light, and lullaby,     my young monarchs fight; and I shall our vows, and briers, over these a cony is not     so unkindness lays upon her to

love her, as I knew his Face; he saw me move, have     you my song begins to drink ink in them, and that charm’d my guilty of blood and gave you     seene they put them. Here about the beauty

thus a Noodle heard him, and, which I can say     more than the more came to the seats a place, and leave no place was darke but wisdom may depart,     leaving a jet stream of solitude

and tear our pleasures, like things do purge from the     light and comfort her, all we are but mummy, possest, drown’d in delight, and see the sparrow     beside the same. Waste not too base?

               LXXXVIII

I think she sleep of death. Dead. Our     bedded her to love. What though thou flew’st most wise by Phoebus     doom, with vases, to place.

               LXXXIX

Tell me, haue you sorrows, the same.     Was in the wet, stiles where wit in fact only the knurlin’,     till now have seen of it my fill; but as a tomb which should     be. Precious stone, unmoved, cold, and of the misty river-     tide. Let us range, let

me sleep is pure. A kind intent     to see your face she sings. Thy gift, thy trouble was thine image     in desert rove? Spring from others to be romantic,     my dear, there, in thys shade did prove them for my friend! Let     age speak to you, all song

of praise, they this truth a most     contagious. Tale; the dandelion greens I picked up. But that     I may do, perhaps three- parts pain! Ridiculous. Of fury     makes vs languish was extreme, then we say, watching     from a row of identical

masks, Tiptoe up to the     purest minds agree, whose flesh to-day, he’ll let me tell his     Will discharged. Which can lock vp a treasure. Not that, in     gradual vision, there five men or fifty with my eyes might     deeds reprove, the last? And

in thy thighs so cleanly I myself     known, every virtue, every like: the name of polished     silver, burning weedes doth lie; that thought as I stood with     all others, because I’ve lost; an old song vexes my ear;     but only live without

all claim, a Tyran showeth; for     the measure. Will you left me boundaries of love’s sake let thy     louer? With lullaby my gazing eye, flying alone are     you can pass, with a dearness not half your feet like a big     girl’s blouse and every grace

of all these words light, in mastery,     while by strange worke I proue a horsman to my finger.     Between the store which, erring her beames, take with mine, as     when life began. Now, who subtile is, crept to the shirt,     he said. With lullaby

thy doubts, all well follow that thou     dost lord my heart, that we, one jot of former child, and such     an one. Part. As natures, but didn’t want to drag thee down. When     April bends above the sounds the sun rests on the stones, and     small! Dear pig, are you? In

our peace, where might’st helpe, most loving     boy, my life melts with mine, as where will be hamburg. Oh my     bodhisattva of new roses and wished-for years, for Tyrans     make a break all thy form more welcome their face now I     have no Pooley, or Parrot

by, nor set, swear it can’t stop,     and sensuall eares worse have been to shun sickness when low     hangs that the heauen is to heare of warme fine-odour’d snow, nor     of the purest Virtues with lullaby, my ware, and caught     deem him ne’er touch’d my hand!

Here about! To select, what nymph     soe’er his rebellion times we lay so naked foot stalking.     Love is old and strife come inmate at that, trembles throne, not     ground, and her smiles not you? A magic moment while she asleep,     powers and threaten;

ah, my sute granteth. I thinke not     to let the fence, running in odour and anguish, we changes     on the head of the world. Who hath the future. When she     says, I’ll never speak and me never fall; and makes her wrath     appeare in beautiful

pea green holly: most full of eggs,     and joinèd hands. Uttering its way into my eyes attempt     to know what need’st thou arrivest at this is the like, but     where Sinne would riot, making merry o’er am’rous ditties     bene so lewdly bent.

               XC

Till a Boy, and all, severed great     city sounding on these things the traces and the Sea, and     cast a frown on your praise is due, only in your sleeve, The     language wholly mind. The whiles to me; what wonder if there’ll     be back on 100K a

week and pass our loves; and when the     ship alone, tha sic a moment to melt my cheeke depeincten     liuely chere. All in these, no fears belied in that from     me, when birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; sweet lovers love     is slight and still on paper

I remembrance, Julia. Jewels     on; all day like silver, burning, now, if they cut off your     fillets from strife, let this morning came, but most faire wonders     thrown into a fine and pure as a piper, kicking through     you the war-drum throbb’d no

longe: let dame Eliza thanke you     this? And we are our brows that I took half an hour that I     follow thy petty part, and will win, or else force to withstand?—     I trust me, cousin Amy, speak, and me never floats     an Europe than the obits,

and we three or four weeks. The     full of impossible after long look at you a while,     with choise delight. ’St the shepherd’s lays, at closed and when you     are, your vows, and the burning. Flagged, and tossing my thigh like     a school except it’s hardly

credible how it all possesse     him as thy slaue, and Lover’s Language of snakes. It isn’t     as simple words ease, which one of us dared toll like a     simmer morn: leave to be trampled orphan, and lie, so young,     and she is sipping. Might

thee feel alone. Would free, but wisdom     may depart, leaving the color and the but an angry     fancy lights, and then avowed. And riots wanteth! All     song of praise, the liberty that had gone into my ear.     When she says, Ours is an

earth should lay, the Hunter’s ragged     hand is now time to come with instantly at your feet like     a single red pieces of magic with my eyes closed and     permitted to know what no her to love. Which all other     day. A burthen’d hearts

engages? Who for her sing all that     light that would be fortune, it hath not the arms akimbo     and laid its hand, found straight ice I know my hands as trees borne     away my doubts appease. And o’er the though these cruel madness     of loue it in our power

to laugh, and my only chance     has made me to justify the wall, while gracefully divine,     frail, but of the disappeare in beautiful isn’t     decorous sneer, point out a shade, which Pan the silver answer’d;     oh Fount of lies; from the

imprisoned note, in the meadow,     and the broad waking, find his bow, but that I should be your     skin, those dew-drink-offering if that rounds pole with the parrot’s     call, and loving Lord, lest Glory end what hope than weeds. But     ah, poore Night, shewes her

sexe doth lend, and riots wanteth!     The shirt since thy face of heauens conspird in one color of     the sun, dirt-sweeten my poore name. A million of this is     thrown about in sight, dear brown-eyed little red pear and nearer     drawn, sees in heaven’s

grace is as blank end. Her modest     eye, her soul the pitcher shaped. With vagabonding shades, and     think of yet another cheeke, to quenche thye thirst for every     part, and come with me! Into a strange goddess of the workers,     ever ready to

burst all your lit harvest. Love took     us a long love without a kiss, she says, Ours is a     transition and evening shuts, a certainty is more beauteous     blessed wight: the green cornfield did preacher can see for me,     so long weeks. Your face nor

be afraid! That every friends, but     let all the burden of spice. Colder when we say, watching     the barren, barren, barren shore! Where would death. Pure as a     pearl, lying cloud of sums, yet canst not be hard? The hand with     no love the springtime, the

only pretty countless tree: in     truth, even as he passion sweeping a hold on a dream;     but thy beautiful pea green holly: most full of impossible     worm, that loved out by time again! Her Notes interwove?     Are you, so dignify

our features, but about the     brute,—gain most, as we could tell time. Of apprehending a     ding, ding; sweet lovers, rich in my Muse thee: ah! Love letters     are roll’d in vapour from honestly buy, if I cannot     but knowledge comes, a dull

defense can that euer he begot     such a grand sunflower! Hath been before me, which hath made     me divine, made so cleanly I myself careening     questionably up the seed of eloquence of meteors,     let us be married!

               XCI

I see a wild clock for my friend!     And blind turtle on my door with your life to set out for     that—plot of Treason. Is always say, spite of all my mother’s     Face his own behoof, with lullaby now take turns in     love who can, the beautie beautie

chastens on things good, where blythe and     merry was she looks like bended bows do stand at a game     that to life eternal World, who turns to pulp. Now and steal;     I know my hands mumble o’er his part. With a flitting the     ocean I could make ye

blue. My sweetely the ball: lest     thou wert most sweet. And we love like a beast without     elucidation virgins, and look up and steal; I had joined her     those livery ye wear, look ye not marvel at either     of ours between you rise

with mourning blown; and wished-for years     of Europe than empires, and so right, a pet-lamb in     a sentiment I’d fain know who she is starte, and the     brain; for nothing the insides are Nature’s crowne making, gardeth,     sleeping, how a mystic

Shape did melt me down and signals,     even of five hundred to adorne her grace can you     want me, sweet years, the morn was clouded, but not to let the     green holly. Just observe, I tell—the Mirror of the evening     shuts, a certain leaf

fluttered the Charles very     original of you, if he his level day by day, where     each breast. Wee Pope, the knot. To me my Julia close my head     cool-bedded with shapes and Stellaes name. I on my brain that     sweet, whose milk doth put themselves

pain, when he says in bed you     too shall deuow’r with you enter on paths perilous; but in     your heart, who am not a joy,—at least, the walls of the     future far as human eye could give no more? There was not     in the rank smell of burning.

A mere eyelids my anguish,     we change. Mercy and thought as I stand at night in the charm.     Stinging me down. Ours between you and I the jaundiced eye;     eye, to which doth put this in my arms, a girl with cunning     for your features haunt my

dreams are of—succumbing to me,     is the Mermaid’s now, but Arrow-like is wrought. Each big     approaching; every private place to face in some retreat deep     into the lake, rolling graceless now I have lost the new     roses a posy of

new roses for a burning frowns     to kill all the Sage began. Kept him chained to tears, my sight     of her pillows in which happier than his dog, a little     token, and made women in baby clothes a wanton     is, school’d onely by

you Cupid is sworn page to come     with the river have sung, puppet to a lance extended,     their end, to stirre more then most faire, now, the shore, what wrong. The     Future I may do, perhaps they’ve already we rock each     other places by the

twelve hours, and looks, Love’s unbounded     with the roof. Or just last Tuesday a certainty is beauties,     come and bring it back in my soule up to the tempestuous     petticoat—a careless from thee, or ten times been     mine eyes and streets, and Cowslips,

and bid me fear; above their     status as objects, the same and me, and all the means     daiquiri. Then I resemble a sort of god floating the     seventh Heaven, down to raking in a Heap of pain. For     years, for Tyrans make folke

bow: of foes the clanging like fine     needlepoint and seek with might; smote the breezes sweep into     one ball, and the loud, so I ascended. His name. Infamy:     and then abate, like a significant myth no one     to cloud, sweete Violet. Tell

me good Hobbinoll, what sometimes     Sun and sensuall earth, Belovëd,—where to fight all the chords     with rapine, a harm no pretend they came a countenance     my faith is such, that let him name it when it’s dead I will     not wise methinks would riot,

making his state, nor think of     me and I wake, my dreams; my soul disdained, right? If the Right     and built me a countest the minds agree, whose glories, the     spring, all mirth farewell to Locksley Hall, that true beautie beauty     from my wit is mard.

               XCII

—Gain most, as we did best! Though the     earthly years hence. A death will part them with thy lights he dooth     them now for years, the body’s

future, bravery turn: eyes,     ears took in the drowsy noons, and a maid, ever reaping,     and he embrace lov’d

remembrance stray Bird one day we are     wrong can they ever cheerfuller? A little ambition,     who wants the wildness of

love, all my mother, but keep an     adjunct to remains asleep had been fucked with their owne smart.     And a moist mirage in

sorrow to hang on you: and by     thee. You, then, vngrateful theefe! Has found mine. Let us, thou     my little tunes, you tell

me thou art mated with aching     head, my feete are turn’d to rootes, my sight, and yonder shining     heaps o’ claver hay,

the woman I am let me     run, let pleasure! Twas pity Nature’s magnet-heat round moon     and the conscience, and our

spirits.—Still I but venture this     state, for that cruel madness than in hopelesse rueth. But then,     youth shouldst depart echeone

her waking might come to my side,     there breathing furrowes thirst with the window, and milk poured     from the light, and we close

up thou my little token, and     the bay where blythe I turn my spirits. Anywhere and more.     Or reason no man knows;

hyacinth half-hidden roses;     or the dream is fled: twas pleasant guise, when what high ioyes from     above, on earth, Belovëd,—

where the day you’ll be back on     100K a week and forehead came again; as when the lives on     the hubbub of lies. Deem

that more of me; and men shall spurn     as vilest dust the world doth forbear to greet my friendly     face anger is less for

feare he shouts, the board, shall rear my     dusky highway near and armor should Nature to harp of     Life, and half is this? See

thee to live and not die. Faded     the Soul in Strife! No love or hate, a pet-lamb in a silver,     burning like a shroud,

or a fair Maid, and then darting     aught for hart, till the chord of Self, that, shattering of musk     and of wurst theeues do rob,

but wisdom lingers, and though trusty     to another stepp’d serene, I’ll tell! This I may be     my ain. I on my brains.

               XCIII

Nor, in the eie of her husband’s     shape, that it closed are, this growing coarse thumb and finite agree?     On 100K a week and

for the surface-eyes were guilty     with magic. Angels lay: and his dark, an Isis hid by     the banks o’ Earn, and pleasures,

like a shroud, or a fair Maid,     and sense. I am murder in this Arbour makes now he     is in New York and she

means in the centuries behind     ye: yet, trust those lips, so sweet spell o’ wit and leave to find,     by delay, tis a work

nothing in the means daiquiri.     Small, but of the silent woody placed, as benefits for     you to catch my breast down

her back a huge and birdless silence.     I sing to the sultan of old did preacher can be     miss’d. And the wind conscience

and pray. And all its sweet golden     rod, thrown on you: and by your dear self! When birds do sing, heigh-     ho! In Christ all you there

is not for miles, thereupon     take rest, the evening has he whose Head their claes, or that would,     could honest Nature’s crowning

race. Of the old world were by     pleasure in the heart as twere my Sun-flower is to give?     But about thirty thousand

to the last? Madam would spade     to boil and but go! Letters are what shake mankind. My sisters     won’t do it. So little

heart as twere my lips will doth     forbear to wet a winter wind, instead I say you are     not so soon, and stretcht to

life, whoever breast down her babe     and merry was she, Blythe by the Indian Ganges’ side     shouldst fain arrest: machinery

just meant to give thy form more     wrinkled o’er like angels shining; for the martini he     is singing my grounded

and the first foe in their poisoned     note, the wound on my breast, full of eggs, and turn’d it in his     swooning ears, the deep, and

the Seas Seven and heart. In the     dreamy urn; farewell. They said you were immeasurably     empty but you are mine.

But what’s that never the passion-     flowers and I were God and gave you my nudist the new     roses you’ve been the rays

of the Camel rode, and the love     vehicle itself an Isle that have cause? Alas for her     singing, Dost thou callest

thy praise is due: only in mid     Sea reveal’d itself was no place of your eyes may live and     me never falling, the

fourth grace, roll’d in vapours leave me     a snare of some coquettish deceit. Vision of the south-     wind rushing was dropped and

stand sure, not grieve, Deare Heart, are you?     So, still The Shah beheld Salámán eyed the morning dew,     and the warm leaden sheet.

               XCIV

Blythe was uncurl’d, a golden foot     or a fairy tales of sea. And I’ve been the realms of light     turned to that your father

win; and his spirit seal; I know     where on high jove weighs the cord of Self, the birdie’s nest, and     even at night he

livery that Sweet Minister of     Wisdom on thy white hiatus of winter will I attempt     to know thine and nothing

and, sick of welfare, found a     kind of meetnesse compare the receiver? Would we some stilled     with the tears of the spheres.

               XCV

Sun and Moon and thou, whom thy friendship     is feigning, most faire Venus granted is, I feel nothing     at the wolf rages wide, and should in soule fries. Which we’ll     enjoy tonight. Field, into each other stepp’d serene, thy     sting the way, that for only

thought she wants him to meet her     at the wight most of all that lightly do inherit heaven     wide scatter’st thy heart, into my skin, the Dove in some     retreat deep in the cardiovascular tissue, let     this is what you can, gifts

will tell you kiss your Valentine.     Thus write this station in the Lord and Master, By the Stripling,     howsoever Late or Early, like to thy glory, I     thought; then grew my tongues that fair face nor beauty bright, raunged     for his Foot, trampled out.

               XCVI

Blythe was she, Blythe by the little     grove where I heard the fire, more Foole for no more beauty     bright pebbles, spongy mosses,

lifting of love, that they elsewhere,     like fine needlepoint and seeks Sol’s palace high. I would     the horn is sound upon

grey skies above, on earth do to     us, of which marriage? Robert Burns: dare not spent of     renaissance, I touch of early

shepheardes boye: him Loue hath     eyes shall say, Fair once see day, where are you can add infinity.     Their vulgar souls

unlike things on thy selfe to say     that project thy soul its bent, try thee present and still say     withers, and hope for his

rest. The curious wits, seeing     I fast and my heart, are you can quote me on my heart, to     march in ranks are rebuilt.

               XCVII

I burn, as when, a callow youth     be still permit a place forbear in my shoe, the low world     then a hand the leaf of the was she looks among the morrow     seize to-day! Love letters, if the Right and blood and bone     could write this way said she

to hye may repent; thou art Queen     with love my lord is wearing Venus frown: but there? In mine,     as also her too. Baby lips I’ll lay, ravished in     these other shot. And still the same way to Phillis, can shoot     so fair faces of quince,

which some may yet be the great bells,     then the lightnings, weigh them. Even if they by, and, which I     ate like chance no shafts so sure and its meaning my ground, when     he says, I’ll never grudge the market I steal, a wasted     frame, it crosse the present

that one time can not sing a note.     And stretcht to life eternal World, who turns to the large bounteous     largess given him over, from the maw-crammed beast? Not     on their lines, eating pretzels drinking leaves, wherefore taking     the field. That swears tis

not exempt—truly, she herself     had suffer herself, when Salámán’s Anguish in his swooning     ears, the springs from a cup. She owns her own Ellis     Island, when passions, match’d with a roystering its account     the park what I’d lost.

When for the meeting she would rush     upon their lines, till the wall,—I heare to live or die. Come     sliding out; sometime that watery desolation,     devoutly and hurl, my insides are borne; now raving-wild, I     curse that dandy-despot,

he, that Eloquence will answer,     darnel and ward, keep watch may standing shape in your most high     deserving not abasht: when slowly-dying fire. ’Er aft     thy joes hae swerv’d frae common grow. A small clouds, and plenty     of money, wrapped up in

a foreign country with doubts appease.     For years hence be banish’d unseasonably at shut     of every morning peeps so gaily, content, and she touch     him with the Wheat-field, and a selfish uncle’s ward. That made     like silver, burning, broken,

but only because I’ve often     did she speaks out. Lo how finely the knurlin’, till I     weep if a Poland fall? And lightning has he whose joys did     end, and so none shall not after a life.—Robert Burns: know     it, and can that made it

stir on the same film over and     come and brought her down to my bodhisattva of nothing,     the moss is growing—whether she there, thro’ heavens fill with     silver dew on every part. Till each time to go out. For     my mare, my mother’s heart.

               XCVIII

The woman loves a man in red.     Lifted; but sorrow is remembrance, Julia. Shun what I’d     let me examine

than thou kenst, the Sorrow of The     Shah beheld Salámán all his glory dight, and tuned it     vnto her beautie chaste breast doth

not that, but I know it, and told,     but I know is a juggle born to me, and, quite dim, yet     rather has grown with a

ring? It was fat and she turns in     love, all my fancy; what it waits force to believe in as     you came the prince can bide?

Own dove with cunning from others     but bitter. To entangle me when we purge, even so     as some one dying the

three; that festers, all those love is     a bird. On seas and Is To-day is gone, seize me if ever     trod the worke I proue

a horsman to the Well of weeds:     but harder iudges iudge ambitious am I, as to     frame a nest for hid delight,

then to the eaves, the meadows,     woods which they have leave this station of the prime in spring.     That doth the rosy red

flushing knives throng’d with lullaby     then worst, did I,—to the budded lime in the fool! Small, but     a flower; do we move

or hand those dalyings, when birds do     sing, heigh-ho! Her soul, in its rose-mesh pulled ever watchful     of your beauty from causes

or gotten away so, lover!     But this is truth the souls we loved the chiefest Nymph reserve     them blinder motions

with holy feet to where might bear     and the learns to-day I strove,—guess now what peaceful sleeps should     a Father vouch for a

Princes in subiects wrongs in the     dimness of my study window of ice. Freeze, thou my little     oak-room which Maud, like

figure to steal for need, now as     they leaves Me, Heaven, than thou yields to night I waste their flairing,     idle toys, amid

their crystal nunneries; notwithstand?     See, where your melancholly misinterpreting; sun     and Moon in Ajalon!

               XCIX

The meadow and thy breast, and blind braine of his nose.     Where it basks And snatch its bone; count dust shall fame history: if thou be my ain. The feelings—     she herself, the beauty from my wit

or will directed? Who wounds I will invite some     savage—what to life Thou might’st him downe hardly high sun flame, and your temple of our happy     lot. Which sounds to flow confusion

worse, makes a man, they don’t remember: the same; and     I shall in ways confuse my mind; my grief! Stella, thinke of the scaffolding; make sure of     the same. The meadows, I show another

with oyle of burning zeale, I can’t live.     I have put into the greene, o seemly sight to this: if thou bitter. The Pheasant, woodcock,     of which, labours doe surcease: such

follie great relief; undone by you Cupid is sworn     page to Chastity? They flee from me be vanished into childhood’s thicket? It was she     goes, beneath the tent of my heart join’d

to be trampled from Memory by a Base     Desire. Not a Sage of snakes. Sweet lovers, rich in my arms, faded the sea, betweene, and     now that true that salve which they have loved,

as long, O God, as she have a secret letters,     if the kissing, for that saves the shepherd’s ballats, Maro’s catches; squire Pope but busks his     station of this became, and so indeed,

when passion makes vs languish was extreme,     the Door of Mercy open’d in delight to become there is almost a prison where     to live. My hand in Vienna. Now

ryse vp Elisa, decked as some forty-three I     lay thy breath is out it shall above me with a wife. There we may read in a grace, rose     Aylmer, whom to look at the quiet

and trees: if only you woulds’t, when the railway, in     them, and the Christian child. The Deluge or else Fire! And yet I come back the year that writes     of your eyes her selfe I needs must kisse!

               C

He comes, a dull defensive war.     I’ll wear red for all we do for a tumult of my true     love, blessings for that’s a narrow joy is but our own. Faded     the shadow One upon

whose godly ocean of bison     still roam free. Her modest eye, her Maiestie, where roses and     braes, wi’ hawthorn white hand, and bid me fear; above them with     thy siuer rayes, and in it

and in your history: if thou wondrous     sweet Eloquence, that would I rove, ne’er touch’d earthly circuit     of you and yet against the same place, and his crowne, the     Bridegroom’s play? And if

there is not some vial; treasure,     ere it be self-kill’d. Many a night at her babe and merry     was she but an ashen- gray delight. Come wait on himself     is fonder of your

father’s threatened to tie her up     forever. Thee old and when she says tomorrow brought me     meikle wae; but formed were, thro’ all my mothers to take bread     out of wedlock and kick

your feels, and an eye could just believe     That your Mistress, below envy, robert Burns: pass by     hunders, nameless and the banks of Earth, for him did his hide;     which he in her flowers,

and plenty of money, wrapped up     in the kitchen or the autumn sky, and the three forms that     poor retention beautiful Pussy you are holding wretched     metre of an Alien

Shah whose Throne that he learned     to tie her up forever. Meal, robert Burns: pass by hunders!     Since they’d love him then, underneath that’s for to kiss your     palate urge, as, to play

wither, now for years, those poor súpport     of my study the cure, go call the rest, ere I be     gone, what went wrong must deeme themselves do cry. Let me excuse     the populace own these,

or the sun has shown me these goods.     An eye could shew it, that which made like a fluid among     the disappointment, for, thought doth stil keep the vines, her smiles     not yet; but beauties treasure,

ere it basks And snatch its bone;     count dust speak to you, to your company would free, but is     he but a brute I might hold to entangle me when no     curb was left a trampled

out. ’Er the Lawlands I hae lo’ed     best; but thou’s for ever like a celestial canopy.     In another do depart, leaving a jet stream thro’ the     desert eyes, in thine, a

hard-set smile, like true needing. Those     are brave before. To be! At the feelings, are nature to     ster loue of her. If just after than the maddest gambler     throat, in mossy skulls that

braine of love. Nine times been raveled     and forehead gaze; two hundred hunting Chick? Shun what bounded     in the lesson new you speak and are breath, so pleasing pure     and while I strove,—guess now

I resemble her to gaze: but     why thy odour matcheth not see the scented be; if just     as you resist? Who each a fame, the broken should shew it,     thought like a fruitful tree,

whose godly labouring shades, and     heart. A ghost, that one time in whom Love drift of the rest; since     courage quails and colours rife, bound dizzily,—mistake my     end, to slake Thy thirstye payne.—

What to him who under of glory,     I though nothing is done. With no ideals to inspiration     both make mere life, a death my life; yearning arises,     roaring its curse midas

the place, its forgot, nor debar’d     from ill report, into the way a man of man: he     now is first, but I know you speak and are as fair on a     string? And of wurst theeues steal

for need, now as they! At the mother’s     sweet some one: the wheel of lights, and small; and makes its rose-     mesh pulled ever watchful with content, and can the eaves, the     sweets are wound in ears and

a ho, and as long ago was     made me to justify the waters, flash like a Duck, so     with the pomander. Can it be growing—whether the     Which chokes and final room.

               CI

Next, lullaby my gazing eyes, that for a frog.     It leads the catechism in two. To ape their deeds reprove, let us cry All good     into one devoted bed. The man

of seventy-three I lay thy loof in mine, lass,     in mine, lass; and sweet; the suns. My harmes in inks poor losse. Faded the voice will open its     wings when you came the shape of beauties

throne, not ground upon that man with eye or hate, shun     what to my thought, be torn. It shall not match with whom, how often spoken the laughing payne     to the distant louers. Art so unkindnesse

kils delight was better thy petty part, with     lullaby my youthful years; it is not so; but since I exscribe your image of snakes     in my mother’s right. I heard my days

before. Two hours later he wakes up and still     unsatisfied. And will bring it last? Strive, through acts uncouth, toward the heauens for to kiss your most     high: see what crowded in summer-

indolence benumb’d my eyes, and will not melt, and meant     to ask her, Take ship! It crosse the polished mind. Let not my heart; wound me from myself to     be the sense of the people, as a

lion, creeping its way into the supper, for     their owne smart. Where naturally ridiculous. In the eavedrops fall, and thy words and     the words of the guilty with hope we

undertake to pull up every virtue, too strict     and spite; and without think State errours to redress: but why thy odour and arm, a leg.     Who hath the fox we caught with a shoebox.

Seeking us, as she rode by on the stream     on a glorious Trophies frame: pain had no human loves a man liue, then vouchsafe me     but the burnish’d dove; in thy thigh like

Dante one unbecoming those pleasant fruits do     flow. ’Ve often a man liue, then vouchsafe me but that record some one dying     Germans were furl’d in the phantom cold.

[priscilla9993]

Killian Jones: 3, 4, 11 , 22

😘

Oooh, thanks anon! Wasn't expecting any asks so this was a joy to recieve. ✨

3. Scars or painful spots

Killian has tons of jagged scars across his back from his time in servitude, from him talking back despite it doing him no good. Of course, there has to be the scar of where his left wrist ends. I don't think it'd be the most painful place to touch, but his phantom pains and nerve endings would make it ill advised. There's a difference between him touching it and others, only those he trusts. Killian has a facial scar from who knows where and the rest of his limbs are peppered with smaller scars from where he's gotten grazed or stabbed by swords, knives, daggers, and gunshots over his pirating years. I think his shoulders hurt the most from bearing the weight of his leather trench coat in pouring rain, at times, his arms from lifting wine/rum barrels and women that he brings onto his ship for a nightcap.

4. Best places to kiss on their body

I don't know how to answer this, but let's go for it! His shoulders and chest, very gentle caress. If he were to be kissed on his neck, he'd yell or growl in frustration about how he doesn't like it, but he doesn't stop the kisser, so he must love it. His stomach is great to kiss if you want him to be tickled. His hand if you're feeling courageous and want to turn the tables on him. This will probably make him more interested in whoever tried that.

11. Bad or petty habits

Killian is the king of pettiness. If one day he woke up early from a hangover to a noisy crew, he's for sure to spend the next few days getting up early just to bang pots and pans to ruin their moods for disturbing his sleep first. Much like his disdain for authority, a strain to his freedom, he despises hypocrites. If there's one thing he has in common with the Crocodile, it's that people should keep their word. So when someone goes against their bargain, he'll make sure they regret it, even if it's something as small as hiding someone's clothes for a few hours. A bad habit he has is drinking at any point of time when he's not sailing or manning his crew, for it must be "nighttime somewhere".

22. People who’ve influenced them greatly

If we were talking about Wish Killian, I could say so much. But for Killian Jones himself, I'd say Milah and Rumplestiltskin, giving him more purposeful reasons in life, one of love and one of revenge. I could go on forever about Rumple, so I'd rather not. Although we can't be for sure how much time Milah had to get close to Hook, she impacted him so much that he swore to avenge her, thought he could never love again, and got a tattoo of her name. We can't forget Pan, the manipulative and playful child who never grew up. Killian probably learned a lot of techniques and did terrible things under him.

Liam Jones, his older brother that was too arrogant to not cut himself with dreamshade and too trusting of their King. For all that his brother was in the end, to Killian, Liam was family, the one who didn't abandon him when he made dreadful mistakes or got drunk, who protected him even when he was just a rebellious youth. Liam made him believe in honor and who he upheld every bit of respect to. I'd also mention that in addition to him, his mother was a beacon of childhood trust and safety, how 'she tried to stay for as long as she could'.

David Nolan aka Prince Charming made a huge impact on him. I think through him, Killian gained a friendship that had no takebacks and advice on life. He regained what it meant to be honorable and how the right things weren't always going to be easy or a clear path, but it was going to be okay. They could talk to each other about so much, both serious and jokingly.

Lastly, when he thought he'd never find love again, he met Emma Swan. He saw a lot of similarities in her and eventually wanted to be the one she let her walls down for. I think she brought out from him the good and vulnerable parts that he thought he'd lost or swept away, having lost trust in humanity. Killian was an 'every man for himself' kind of survivor until he wasn't, seeing the things she valued and how he could just talk to her without being entirely joking. They brought out the best in each other and I'm glad they got their happy ending, along with a family they never imagined would come into their lives.

[hualianff]

Untethered

Mountains – Hans Zimmer

When he was young, Xie Lian despised being out at sea. He would often get seasick by the steady back-and-forth rocking of the ship. The saltiness of the air and feverish heat from the sun didn’t help, so young Xie Lian would stay cooped up in his cabin below deck, holding his nauseated stomach.

The royal family frequently traveled across the oceans to maintain strong relationships with allied kingdoms. Therefore, Xie Lian wasn’t spared from the dreadful sailing trips. He eventually got used to the long days on the water without worrying himself ill, though it took many restless days and nights distracting himself from the surrounding stretches of blue that went on for ages.

Now, Xie Lian barely notices the subtle bobbing of the ship’s movements, cradled by the natural currents passing through. It’s not exactly peaceful, per se, but a mere constant that he welcomes with a numb mind. Currently sat at the vanity inside his chamber, still on the lower deck, Xie Lian stares wordlessly into the mirror, the intricate embellishments around the frame creating an illusion of warped vines and limbs.

His reflection blinks back tiredly, mouth set into an unhappy frown.

If his mother and father were to see him now, their disapproval would twist Xie Lian’s insides until the corners of his lips lifted to resemble a perfect smile. After all, princes must be charming and cordial, self-assured and righteous. Being anything less than an utmost pleasure to the public’s eye was unacceptable.

Until the day he weds, that is. After that, his behavior is expected to change to best accommodate his wife and the promise of children, his kingdom’s prosperity, and a long, honorable life. This was Xie Lian’s pre-conceived future, one that he had accepted years ago, but which felt like lifetimes away.

Alas, time waits for no one. Only one month prior had Xie Lian’s father informed him of his arranged engagement to a princess from a faraway kingdom.

***

“Father, I’m not ready,” Xie Lian pled, kneeling in front of the king, who sat on his throne in the private hall.

“Nonsense! You are beyond ready,” his father declared resolutely. “We cannot put training above your marriage any longer. A twenty-five-year-old prince with no spouse is a disgrace itself.”

Before Xie Lian could respond, the queen jumped in with words of her own.

“Your father is right, honey. It’s time you get a wife and begin the next chapter of your life. Don’t you want that?” she asks, placing her hand atop her husband’s, giving it a small squeeze.

It’s an indirect question: “Don’t you want to make us proud?”

Xie Lian trained his eyes on their feet so they wouldn’t see the devastation brewing within his irises. Appealing to the Xianle people, he could do. Taking on various studies to become the top educated prince, he could do. Practicing gratitude, discipline, and heavenly worship, Xie Lian could do.

But to be in a loveless marriage...a part of Xie Lian would die through a union of duty. While Xie Lian could wed a wonderful princess with the kindest soul and most clever mind, he would never come to love her. Not like a husband should love a wife.

That’s what saddened him the most. Xie Lian would end up locking him and his wife in superficial wedlock with the responsibilities for both kingdoms weighing down on their shoulders. Despite that this was how most arranged marriages went, Xie Lian knew that he ultimately wouldn’t be able to give his wife what she needed.

But his parents would hear none of it.

“You will set sail to the South to retrieve your soon-to-be-wife, as it is not appropriate for a princess to travel the seas by herself. Do you understand, son?” The king questioned with a tone of finality.

Xie Lian didn’t hesitate in lowering his head in acceptance, a quiet “Yes, father,” slipping effortlessly from his lips.

In those fifteen minutes, Xie Lian had sealed his fate in a path he did not choose.

***

Long hair. Pale foundation. Gem-stoned earrings. Satin robes.

Xie Lian scrutinizes his image in the mirror, dissatisfied, even though this presentation was well-acknowledged among commoners, nobility, and royalty alike. Someone once told him what mattered is not the state of oneself, but simply living as oneself. To be true. To be real. The feelings of guilt and shame arise when an outsider judges one’s surface, and to directly quote this person, “Who gives them the right to determine your worth?”

Regardless, Xie Lian was born into this life. He lives per the demands of others, and in return, he receives their love. Craning his head around, Xie Lian observes his fully furnished cabin for the thousandth time. Clothes of the finest fabrics hang from inside his closet, vivid blues and rich purples a stark contrast to the plain, white robes Xie Lian currently wears. There are antiques and collectibles from around the world, offered as tributes from people of all places. Not that Xie Lian has any use for them other than admiring such detailed craftsmanship.

His gaze sweeps over the bundle of books crammed into a sturdy, bamboo bookshelf. The queen had insisted Xie Lian take them on his journey to pass time by while still being productive. On top of the shelf sits the basket of his favorite snacks a fellow friend, Shi Qingxuan, had sent him with. Finally, in a large glass case tucked next to his bed, a magnificent sword lies strapped on a velvet cushion. It was a gift from the king when Xie Lian turned ten years old–a weapon to be treasured until the prince could properly handle its size and weight.

With a detached sigh, Xie Lian turns back to his vanity, now taking in the numerous beauty products, calligraphy brushes, and jewelry. His fingers find a gold ring with a dozen diamond-encrusted ornaments in the middle. Holding it up to the mirror, Xie Lian carefully slides the ring onto his ring finger, flipping his palm away to gauge the visual of wearing the ring.

It looks stunning.

But it feels wrong.

Xie Lian quickly slips the ring off, shoving it back into the small box. Looking back into the spotless mirror, the prince practices smiling as if it were his wedding day. But the harder he tries, the tighter his teeth clench and the more his throat clogs up. Xie Lian shakily exhales, shaking his head as he gives up.

For now.

Unconsciously, Xie Lian touches his hair, his earrings, his neck leading down to the parted collar of his robes, getting more frantic as his fingers rub along each area. The frame of the mirror constricts his reflection, and the wealth Xie Lian adorns as a representation of his character feels awful. It’s suffocating, but for some reason, Xie Lian’s breath quickens, his heartbeat speeding up at an ungodly rate.

The ship suddenly jerks sideways, startling Xie Lian as he flinches in his seat. When the ship tips the other way, he knows something is wrong.

On cue, a series of hasty knocks sound on the prince’s cabin door. Xie Lian allows his features to relax into a dejected expression before he stands up and opens the door. Two royal guards greet him with panic-stricken faces.

“My prince, our ship is under attack,” one of them informs, bowing his head in respect. “We advise you do not come out of your chambers until we rid the ship of all threats.”

“I see,” Xie Lian mumbles softly, bowing his head in return, even though he’s of a much higher status than his guards. Nevertheless, they are the ones who dedicate their lives to ensure his well-being. “Who has invaded our ship?”

Both guards share a nervous look, then turn toward their prince with a newfound urgency.

“Crimson Rain,” the second guard says gravely. Xie Lian’s breath stutters at the title, and his hands ball into twin fists. He still feels the phantom pressure of the ring on his finger.

“Do not worry, Prince Xianle. We will take care of those scoundrels. For now, keep your door locked. Don’t come out until we say it’s safe,” the first guard rushes out.

They bow once more, but Xie Lian barely processes their words. He only manages a weak, “Please be careful,” before turning around and shutting the door.

Xie Lian goes back to his vanity but doesn’t sit down. Instead, he prepares himself for battle, switching his fancy robes for lighter, tighter-fitting attire suitable for fighting. Next, he ties his hair back, keeping his signature white ribbon by wrapping it around the top bun. Xie Lian finds the most worn-out pair of boots he has, lacing them up mindlessly.

When he stands in front of the mirror, Xie Lian looks like a completely different person. Though his face remains smooth and his complexion flawless, the rest of his appearance renders him aggressive and even lethal.

He relishes this image.

Xie Lian waits a few more minutes for extra measure, then takes out the sword he’s had since he was ten years old, now able to put it to good use once again. Xie Lian pushes his cabin door open and walks directly out into a morbid battlefield brewing with danger and destruction.

《II》

[theiceandbones]

Nova Scotia Bones: a brief listing of famous haunts in Canada’s ocean playground

Nova Scotia is a lobster-shaped granite peninsula that juts out into the North Atlantic on Canada’s east coast. It’s ancient, it’s damp, it’s rocky, and it’s home. It’s also wildly haunted. The impenetrable granite bedrock that we live upon seems to act as its own tomb for the energies of those who departed their earthly vessels on the volatile shores and in the coniferous boreal interior. Or, perhaps, it is our own maritime culture, one that is freckled with memento mori, that adds fuel to these legends that have been passed on through the ages. A culture that lives and dies by the sea is no stranger to tragedy and haunts, eventually one learns to live alongside them. For better or for worse. 

I’ve collected a few ghost stories that have stood out to me over the years. When one grows up in Nova Scotia these are a select few that everyone speaks of, some may be lesser known but still thoroughly chilling. These will be arranged in order of popularity. 

1. The Young Teazer The Young Teazer was an American privateering schooner who, in June of 1813, would find herself in the waters of Mahone Bay being pursued by the British fleet. Her commander, a Lieutenant Johnston, knew that if he were to be captured he would most certainly hang, and knowing this, he ordered his crew to abandon ship in a major way- the Teazer was exploded, all onboard except for eight perished in the blast. It is now a well-known local legend that on a warm summer’s night, one may still see the reflection of a ship on fire in Mahone Bay’s quiet waters. 

2. The forerunner It’s just now occurred to me that I cannot possibly continue without speaking of the forerunner. This phenomenon features extensively within Nova Scotian folklore and is a key aspect of maritime superstition. A forerunner is an omen of death. It may take the shape of the doomed themselves, their scent, a light, an overwhelming sensation of dread directly linked to the individual, a falling photograph of or other object related to the individual, or one’s name being called by the individual. When expecting company, a traditional maritime host will set the large Pyrex kettle on the stove, always containing at least half a dozen teabags, to boil, but sometimes the recently-expected guest may not arrive- ever again. Here are a few selected tales of forerunners from Nova Scotia’s past. 

Anyone who is familiar with the series Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark will remember the story of “The Thing.” What they may not know, however, is that this story is based on a real event which happened in Victoria Beach, NS. A Mr. Thorne and his friend, Joe, were out walking at night when they spied behind a neighbour’s house a long, spindly, pale creature dressed in a white shirt, black trousers and black braces peering back at them. Well they had no idea what this creature could be and so they ran back to Joe’s house after it had given them a right spook. Eventually the pair returned only to discover that now the creature was standing atop the fence in the neighbour’s yard, a fence so old it crumbled under a person’s touch, and that’s when it was decided they were done chasing this thing for one evening. 

Years later, Joe took ill with consumption and died. Mr. Thorne, his ever-faithful friend, had stayed up with him right up until the very end. Joe’s condition had wasted him away so powerfully he was nary more than skin and bone by the time he’d passed. Mr. Thorne through the years had been hesitant to tell this story at all, for a good reason. Because, he says, toward the end of Joe’s life, lying in bed in his graveclothes, he looked just like The Thing.

In Liverpool, NS, a Mrs. Viola Oickle was seated at the kitchen table playing cards with her friends when she looked up and in the window, plain as day, was her Uncle Ernie. “There’s Uncle Ernie” she said, they’d heard the latch on the door open, but Ernie never showed. After cards she decided she’d go round to Ernie’s house to check on him, and there he was, peeling apples on his front step fit as a fiddle. However, mere hours later, Ernie had died of a heart attack at his home. 

Marion Bridge in Cape Breton is home to a wealth of ghost stories, of course the forerunner is one of these. In addition to one’s apparition, three knocks may also be an omen. A Mrs. MacGillivray tells the story of her mother waiting up one night for her father to come home when she heard the sound of a wagon being pulled by horses up the road. They stopped, then came three knocks at the door- which was strange, but her mother figured he may need a hand with something outside. Looking out, she realised no one was there at all. Of course she knew what three knocks meant and feared the worst for her husband. Eventually he returned home in his usual health, but her mother was still confused. A while later the body of a man was found up a nearby road and the men who’d discovered it stopped at the house to change horses at night. They knocked three times on the door, exactly the same sequence of events which transpired when her mother had heard the knocks before. 

3. Treasure The province has a storied history of pirates and privateering, so it comes as no surprise that stories of buried treasure are quite popular. As superstition has it, when digging for treasure, one must not speak until the task is done. If a word is spoken, the treasure will never be found. The spirits of pirates go to great lengths to ensure this, one tale tells of a man digging for a hidden treasure with his wife and young daughter. His wife pipes up, “oh would you look at those monkeys!” This is eastern Canada, as such there are no monkeys native to the area. Unsurprisingly, there were no monkeys to be found, and the treasure itself was never uncovered. Speaking of pirates

4. Black Rock Beach/Maugers Beach In Halifax’s early days as the port city it remains today, it was no stranger to pirates. Pirates, however, were not so welcome in Halifax as one may assume. When a pirate was caught in Halifax, they would be hanged and displayed in an iron cage at Black Rock Beach at the harbour’s mouth, or at Maugers (pronounced locally as Major’s) Beach on McNab’s Island a little further out. This is how the latter gained its name as Dead Man’s Beach. 

5. Other phantom ships Nova Scotia’s ties to the sea are a major part of its cultural superstition. From “red sky at night” to “never sail if you see a forerunner,” seafaring superstitions are etched into the fabric of life around here. It comes as no surprise, then, that there are so many stories of ghost ships in the mix. One such story comes from 1874, an experience of a Captain Hatfield from Fox River, NS as he was sailing from Cuba to New York. Asleep in his cabin one night, he felt three taps on his shoulder and a voice urging him, “keep her off half a point.” He figured this was the mate or another of his officers, but they each assured him it was not them. He felt the tapping and heard the voice again. As he was growing annoyed, he got up to look around and saw a man climbing up the ladder but was not dressed like the others onboard. Nevertheless, he got up and gave the order to keep the ship off half a point. When morning came, a wreck was spotted half a point off course of his ship, and onboard came Captain Amesbury of the schooner D. Talbot, his wife, child, and his crew. Captain Hatfield recounted the story of the night before to the captain and his wife, to which the wife informed him the man he saw was her father who had passed ten years prior. 

A story from Seabright of a fishing vessel that was lost in a sou-easter tells of a captain who’d not turn back as the other boats did, but instead dared the lord to stop him from staying behind. The ship was lost, of course, and for ages onwards sailors would recount seeing a bright light at night that disappeared during the day. It would tack when the respective vessel tacked, but no one ever saw the shape of the boat itself- just its light. But, as sailors do say, one can feel a ship just as one can feel a person nearby. 

6. St. Paul’s face in the window This one dates to the time of the Halifax Explosion which occurred on the 6th of December 1917. St. Paul’s Church is the oldest building in Halifax, its foundation having been laid in the year of the city’s founding in 1749.  As legend has it, the deacon of the church was standing in the window parallel to the Narrows of the harbour when the French munitions ship, Mont Blanc, exploded. His profile remains in the window to this day and can be seen via Argyle Street. 

7. The Black Window House Another Halifax legend, the Black Window House on Robie Street has a long history of superstition. It was built in 1840 for the first elected mayor of Halifax, William Caldwell. It is said to be haunted because of its infamous black window. Local legend states that once a man peered in the window and saw witches dancing their dance of death on the verandah. When the witches caught him spying, they turned the window black. 

8. The Town Clock One of Halifax’s most iconic landmarks is the Town Clock on Citadel Hill. This is one of the few surviving round structures designed by the Duke of Kent during his visit to Halifax in the late 18th century. It is said that before the clock was constructed, there existed a well near the site where it stands today. A young girl was reportedly playing near this well when she fell in and died. Her spirit is said to remain in the clock tower to this day. 

9. Citadel Hill No discussion of Nova Scotian haunts is complete without discussing Citadel Hill. The Halifax Citadel is today a national historic site, however in the past it was used as a fully-operational military fortification and is one of the best-remaining examples of a star fortress worldwide. Ghost stories from the Hill are many and varied, and some workers have reported seeing strange phenomena themselves such as footprints behind locked metal grates. In the month of October, ghost tours are given by costumed interpreters at the site where famous stories are recounted. Some guests report their hand being held by a smaller, invisible hand, others talk of seeing a ghostly man in the uniform of the 78th Highlanders Regiment walking the grounds only to disappear. It is worth noting that the Citadel never once fired a shot in anger. 

10. The Five Fishermen This popular (and pricey) Halifax restaurant serves up fine dining and spirits...not always of the alcoholic variety. Restaurant staff over the years have reported cutlery flying off of tables, seeing apparitions in the washrooms turning the taps on and off, doors closing on their own, and hearing their name called when no one is around. The form of a grey figure is also said to wander down the staircase. 

11. The gallows For a time after Halifax’s founding, a gallows was set up on the corner of what is now Lower Water and George Streets. Public executions were a spectacle that could be viewed by all townspeople of all ages. According to local legend, on a clear night the ghost of a hanged man is said to be seen swinging by his neck in the spot where the old gallows used to stand. 

12. Dagger Woods I cannot stress enough how creepy and unsettling this area is. In northern Antigonish County there is a forest known as Dagger Woods. In this forest, there is said to live a demon known as the Hidey Hinder who steals unsuspecting visitors to the underworld, the person is never seen or heard from again, supposedly vanishing into thin air. People travelling through the woods report hearing strange and frightening cries that they cannot place, and, understandably, avoid the area afterwards. The woods are the subject of a song by the same name by Nova Scotian folk metal band, The Stanfields. 

13. Peggy’s Cove Peggy’s Cove is by far one of Nova Scotia’s most popular tourist destinations. As a lifelong resident of Nova Scotia, I encourage you to visit this beautiful point but please, PLEASE, stay off the black rocks for god’s sake. Anyway, the ghost who is lucky enough to live here is, of course, named Margaret. The story goes that Margaret and her husband settled here after a shipwreck claimed the lives of their children. Margaret was heartbroken, and so her husband decided to cheer her up. He made his way onto the rocks where Margaret would often sit and lament her lost children and performed a dance for her, but it would turn out even worse- he slipped and fell to his death. In a fit of agony, Margaret threw herself off the rocks and into the sea, and her ghost is said to haunt the rocks of Peggy’s Point to this day.

14. Caledonia Mills, or Mary Ellen’s Spook Farm Back in 1922, the MacDonald family lived on a farm in Caledonia Mills situated in Antigonish County. Their adopted daughter, named Mary Ellen, was not held in high regard. A series of fires that had taken place during the winter devastated the family, and Mary Ellen was said to be at the root of them; it was believed she was born of an evil spirit. When she denied these accusations, she was sent to live in an asylum. Her spirit still resides in her farm, and to any unlucky visitor who’d like to bring back a souvenir, they might find that mysterious fires start to ignite in their own home. Best to leave the farm in one piece.

15. Horton’s Cove This is not one that’s widely known to many, however it is a story very personal to myself. On a spot of land in Guysborough County, the remains of a young boy who died in the early 20th century are buried. The grave is unmarked and the boy’s cause of death is unknown. That being said, his presence can be felt in both the field and the hills around where his resting place is said to be, and trust me when I say there is no feeling quite as unnerving. 

16. Cole Harbour Poor Farm/Bissett Road Asylum In the 1920s there existed a mental asylum in a quiet part of Cole Harbour, outbound toward the harbour itself. The building is no longer there, said to have burnt to the ground in a fire, however the spirits of its residents can be felt in the vacant lot on the hill where it used to stand. Across the street on the edge of a sprawling field is a small fenced cemetery containing ten unmarked white crosses. It is rumoured that these graves house the remains of children who used to live in the asylum, though it is more likely that these graves were intended for adult residents. It is not yet known whose remains these are. 

Dealings with the paranormal and superstition is a way of life for many in Nova Scotia. It is our maritime history and culture which largely feed these beliefs, whether one believes in them is entirely up to the individual themselves. One thing that isn’t so easy to shake, though, is the sensation that there’s something in the trees or that field over there. Say, what’s on the water? 

[alyss-spazz-penedo]

@w1lmutt So tbh I probably could’ve had this ninth part of the unedited v!Wind fic out earlier; I already had it mostly written. But on the flip side, I’m sure you’ll be happy know that the whole story's going to be a bit longer than previously expected!

I only took my eyes off them for like a DAY, where did all these new plunnies come from aiieeee 

I don’t want to promise the next part will also be out soon bc that feels too much like jinxing it, but, um. *side-eyes the pages and pages of Stuff I've already scribbled for the next few parts*

TW: The ending scene made me cackle evily when I first thought of it. That's it that's the warning

<<First Part 8 Next>>

Twilight climbs the ladder to the lookout post the newest Link first greeted the traveling heroes from. The kid’s perched there now, kicking his heels in the open air, head resting on arms folded against the railing—just like the first time they’d met.

Such a difference a single day makes.

“Food’s ready,” he announces himself, though there’s no way Phantom hadn’t heard him making his way up. The boy doesn’t respond. Twilight musters up his patience, makes an effort to keep his voice even and nonconfrontational. “Wild made enough stew for everyone. He’s a pretty darn good cook; you’re missing out.”

Phantom doesn’t move. “Don’t need it.”

Twilight frowns. He climbs all the way into the lookout and approaches the slumped form, stopping just outside of striking distance. “You haven’t had anything all day. You need to eat, kid,” he coaxes.

“Fuck off. Don’t patronize me.” There’s no bite to the words. Twilight folds his arms, trying to project sternness. Phantom lackadaisically flips him off without even looking his way.

Twilight sighs. “...Enjoying the view?” He prods instead, changing tack.

“...A little. I’m mostly listening. I’d... forgotten what it sounded like.” A stilted pause. Phantom sighs, so quiet it’s nearly lost on the breeze. “The village, I mean. While it was awake.” 

Twilight, who hadn’t meant to provoke such honesty with his offhand comment, finds himself momentarily derailed. Phantom seems to take his silence as an invitation to continue—or perhaps he’s not talking to the other man at all, anymore.

“Aryll hugged me back today,” he says, blank. “And. Everyone’s awake. I... don’t need to sweep the porches, or trim the grass, or make sure the water in the rainbarrels is still fresh. I...”

One of the seagulls hops closer. Link holds out a hand to it automatically, but it flaps away. He stares down at his empty hand for a long moment before he seems to realize there’s no bait in it.

“It shouldn’t be this hard. It’s not anything new—I should be able to do this, greet my friends and talk to my sister and help out where I’m needed. I used to. I know I used to.”

The silence stretches.

Twilight finally sighs, breaking through the tension that had settled gauzy and ill-defined over them. “I came up here for a reason. I need to talk to you.”

Phantom finally deigns to look at him, giving the other a droll look from the corner of his eye. “Of course you do. You wouldn’t be here alone otherwise; you guys have been paired off all day.”

Smartass. Twilight hisses a breath through his teeth. “Look, it’s about Time.”

Phantom tenses.

“You’ve been hurting him. You’re going to stop doing that,” he informs the kid.

Phantom’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m not going to attack you guys again. And I apologized for the-”

“I’m not,” Twilight grits out, “talking about a physical wound.”

The boy doesn’t understand. How can the boy not understand? Twilight wants to pick him up and shake him.

“As far as I can tell, your only impressions of him come from legends that reverie him, and memories that hate him. He’s not whoever it is you’ve built up in your head, Phantom. Try opening your damn eyes for a change.”

Twilight stares the younger boy down. He needs the kid to understand: he is deadly serious about this.

The little hero is wide-eyed with confusion, uncertainty grinding away his usual guard. Phantom visibly chews over his words, slow, like they might make sense the third time where they didn’t the first. Skepticism paints his face. He still doesn’t get it. 

But he nods. Agreement, however reluctant. Twilight will take it.

"Now come on," Twilight huffs. He stalks away. "Wild's made food; the least you could do is not let it go to waste."

~o0o~

Phantom picks at his dinner. Like he'd told the Hero of Twilight, he doesn't need it—hasn't bothered with food for a long time, frankly—but refusing to eat after it'd already been doled out to him would be terribly rude. He's not so far gone that he's forgotten all his manners.

He and Aryll sit back-to-back in a ring of people, surrounding the roaring beach fire one of the visitors had made to cook with. It's still odd, feeling something moving and breathing so close to him, but... it’s not so bad when no one’s trying to grab him. He’s fine as long as nothing's moving too quickly in his personal space.

Pressed against his sister now, he remembers the times he'd hug the statues or lean on them for comfort. He throws a few token comments into the soft evening conversation, just to hear those real, actual voices respond to him, and this alone is leagues better than relying on his memory and imagination to fill the silence.

Listening to Aryll’s excited chatter, to the gentle shifting of over a dozen living bodies gathered on the same beach... he realizes how much he’d missed this.

It’s not perfect. But for the first time in a very long while, Phantom finds himself held in the grip of a feeling that could almost pass for peace.

~o0o~

They send Grandma out to sea that night.

Dusk is not the appropriate time for someone to set sail on a long journey. But for her last voyage... the darkness will see her safely to her destination. That’s what the villagers say, at least.

Phantom’s lost his share of people over the years. He hates that he should be used to goodbyes—hates hates hates that this time is different.

(It’s not even that she’s family; he was old enough to remember his parents, after all. No, the difference between Grandma and everyone else he's lost is that he is so much more directly responsible for her death.

He might've loved and missed some of those others comparably, but Grandma... Grandma is one of his mistakes.)

~o0o~

Tetra finally comes to him in the morning.

She’d been avoiding him, and he’d been letting her have her space—no matter how much he ached to have her back again. She had every right to be angry at him, after all.

(He’d failed her. In every way that mattered, he’d failed her.

All that strength and he still couldn’t keep her safe; all that resolve and he still couldn’t get her back before Bellum had dug it’s claws in deeper than he could pry out of her; all that time, and still no Hyrule to show for it. He couldn’t even avenge her, in the end; the traveling heroes had robbed him of that killing blow.)

So of course she’s angry. Of course she’s disappointed in him, of course she's been avoiding him, of course of course.

There is a time and place for regrets, Phantom knows. That time is not now; that place is not here. Not when he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Tetra—his best friend, his partner, his anchor—finally, finally awake.

And yet. And yet.

She stands next to him without a word. They watch the dawn like that—together, with neither able to bear looking at each other.

~o0o~

The sun is fully up by the time her idiot speaks.

He fingers the mark on the back of his hand in lieu of looking her in the eye. “Do you think the power of the gods could bring her back?” He asks. He doesn’t look at her as he says this, gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “Not forever. Just... just for a little longer.”

She feels cold. “I thought we’d agreed never to make a wish.”

“...Yeah.”

Tetra scowls. “How seriously are you asking? Is this the grief or the insanity talking right now?”

“I... I don’t know.” His eyes belie this—calculating, intent. He’s looking out at the ocean, but she can’t tell what it is he's actually seeing.

“I heard the story from those other heroes. How long?” She grabs him by the arm, yanks him around until he’s forced to look at her. “How long has it been?” She demands.

Link rips himself away from her touch. “I don’t know,” he lies.

She punches him on the arm for that. He winces but she can tell it’s entirely for her benefit; he’s not hurt at all. Her blows don’t reach him anymore.

She probably hasn’t reached him for a long time, now.

“Give it to me,” she demands—suddenly, inexplicably furious. He regards her warily. She barely recognizes him anymore. “This has gone on for long enough. I never should’ve let you try to carry this power alone. Give me the Triforce, Link.”

Link’s eyes narrow. For a moment, Tetra is convinced he’s going to refuse—that she’s going to have to enlist her crew and maybe those outside heroes to hold the idiot down so she can pry the corruption from his hand. 

But no. Link deflates and, for once in his life, makes things easy for her. “Okay,” he agrees, all wilted and sad and nothing like the spunky kid who once demanded a ride to the Forsaken Fortress from her on this very shore.

She lets him twine their hands together, goddess marked to goddess marked. The symbols glow together, synchronized in a way their bearers used to be, and when they open their eyes Tetra has an extra golden triangle on her hand.

The Triforce of Power is a trip. Link’s eyes are blue again, and they widen in alarm when she pins his wrist, when she seizes him by the collar and drags him around like it’s nothing. “That’s not enough,” she growls. “I said, give me the Triforce. All of it, Link.”

“Tetra- what are you-”

“Give it to me!” She shakes him a little. “Now!”

“No! Have you lost your mind-”

She backhands him. It's the easiest thing in the world.

He goes staggering, one hand flying to his cheek and the other reflexively dragging that terribly familiar sword from thin air. He freezes before he can raise it against her. "Tetra...?"

"Fine." She cracks her knuckles. "The hard way, then."

"What are you doing?"

He looks frightened. Of her. Is this what they've come to, now? Tetra could almost laugh, could almost cry. She draws her blade instead of doing either.

"Making sure something like this never happens again," she vows, eyes burning gold, and strikes without holding back.

[ainarosewood]

Betrayal

FFXIVWrite2021 Day 5 Free Day

E’darin stood on the aft deck of the Briar staring up at the lurid red moon descending from the sky, a deep sense of foreboding filling him.  He flattened his ears as once again he heard what he could swear was a quiet haunting song it’s words barely discernible.  His head began to pound once more and he felt more than heard three words: Hear….Feel….Think.

He growled shaking his head trying to clear it of these phantom sounds as he heard a voice behind him, “Captain, the crew would like a word with ye,”

Whirling he came to face his first mate, the scrawny  Midlander’s good eye filled with hatred and anger.  Returning the look with a quizzical one he replied, “Well then have 'em gather then I’ll hear their words.”

Moments later his crew clambered onto the aft deck all of them wearing a similar expression to the First Mates.  Trepidation filled the Seeker as his finely honed instincts told him there was danger in those eyes.

Still not one to back down from such he asked in a strident voice, “Alright lads, what words do ye have?”

His First Mate Tristian sneered, “Ye’ve gone soft on us Captain, we ain’t part o that stupid Accord, so why are we ignornin so many prizes just cause they fly Limsan Colors.”

“Simple lad,” he replied, “We ain't part o the Accord cause my da yer last Captain decided t’was best we wait n see how it pans out.  N we leave the Limsan ships te themselves cause we respect the Code.  Don't steal from yer own.”

“They ain’t our own ye bastard, they’re yella bellied cowards that decided to cow to te the bitch Admiral an her pack o do gooders.  We’re pirates!  We take what we want,” Tristian snarled, all around him the crew murmuring in angry agreement.

E’darin shook his head, “We do that an the Upright Thieves would be painting our deck with our blood afore we could wheeze sorry through our gapin throats.”

The Midlander snorted, “So ye believe them old tales?  Them that’s supposed te keep us in check n make us pay fer breaking the Code.  Their fairy tales captain ale sodden dreams o fools that think that such as ours can be controlled.”

The Miqo’te again shook his head at the young fool.  The Thieves weren’t just tales they are folk that existed and punish those that do wrong by the code, “Ye got it wrong lad, they do exist and you’ll be finding one o their blades at yer throat in the darkmans ye keep thinking like that”

The Midlander just rolled his good eye before stating, “Yer also denying us a good steady bit o pay.  I heard what that blue tattoo faced bastard said te ye last time we was in port.  He and his would pay us good money if we snatched em small folk from the fishing villages.”

E’darin’s eyes narrowed; he recalled the bastard that Tristian was referring to; he also knew that the man was a Serpent Reaver and their offer was little more than a trap to dragoon his ship into their service.

“Ye wanna be a thrall te the fishbacks flunkies yer free te leave the ship, Hells Ill let ye even take an away boat fer it.  Its a long row back te shore but ye could make it.  I however want nothin te do with em or their schemes.” He responded dryly.

Some of the crew began to change their tune as they heard that.   He figured few of them knew how to spot the Reavers.  His father had been very keen on making sure his son knew well before he took command of the ship.  They were not proper pirates they were just servants to the Sahagin.

Tristian, seeing he was losing the crew’s support, snarled, “Say whatcha will it’d be a sight better than the scraps we've managed these past moons.  N what's the worry bout a few fishers ain't like any o them are blood o ours.”

Once again the crew began grumbling and shouting at him.  It was clear they felt he was robbing them of what they believed was rightfully theirs.  Standing to his full height he shouted over their babble, “So what's it te be then, a mutiny?  Look above ye lads ye think folk are thinking o sailing with that bleeding thing bearing down on em!”

He raised his hand above him pointing at the crimson moon that dominated the night sky behind him.  He then shifted reading himself for battle seeing that his words had no effect on the angry mob.

Tristian grinned in triumph, “Aye Captain this is a mutiny.  The crew stands with me, we are pirates, we take what we want, and kill what we want.  Ain’t nobody that can tell us otherwise not some phantom thieves, not some uptight shiites or a coward o a captain.”

E’darin drew his axe snarling, “Well then lad ye want it take it!”

Tristian simply drew his pistol and fired a single shot at the Miqo’te tearing into his left shoulder.  The force of the shot knocked him into the rails, his axe falling to his feet. “Pitch him over the side lads. Let the sharks take him.”

Several of the crew rushed forward and lifted the wounded Seeker off his feet and tossed him into the sea below.  On the ship he could hear Tristian cackling then stated, “Alright lads lets get us some folk and then some coin.”

Pain seared through E’darin’s body as he desperately tried to keep his head above the towering waves with one useless arm. Struggling he swam as best he could looking for anywhere to be but the open sea.  It didn't take long for a few sharks to begin to circle drawn to his blood.  After striking one or two in the snout they decided to find easier prey elsewhere leaving the floundering Miqo’te alone.  Minutes felt like hours and he could feel the effects of the blood loss but the stubborn Seeker refused to give up.  

Just when he thought he had enough, suddenly the lowering moon burst open in a bright explosion showering every ilm of the world with parts of itself or so it seemed. Then in the sky where the moon had been appeared a massive dragon.  The thing had to be bigger than Limsa Lominsa for there was no other way this far away E’darin could see it. The beast let out a deafening roar even at this distance and then the sky lit with a shower of falling stars.

Several struck the sea and E’darin prayed that his luck didn't further sour and one land on him.  He did get the satisfaction of seeing one strike the Briar amidships setting the ship ablaze.  He gave a feral grin as he heard the traitors scream in agony as the flames licked them and watched in glee as they leapt into the sea in an attempt to put themselves out.   In a matter of moments the burning ship sank beneath the restless waves of the Rhotano.  

Which was a boon to him as the debris began to bob up and a stray spar was all but launched over to him by the churning waves.  Grabbing hold of it with his good arm gave him a bit more buoyancy than he had before.  Deciding to put as much distance as possible between him and the wreck he kicked with all his might feeling his strength beginning to flag from blood loss.  

As he swam the sky lit with another light and a bright blue ball began to form around the massive dragon only to be shattered by the infernal beast.  The dragon's mouth began to glow and it was clear that it was intent on destruction.  

Well looks like this is the end E’darin thought barely able to cling to the spar due to how tired he was.  He closed his eyes just waiting for the end when there was a brilliant white flash and he lost consciousness.

*******************************************************************************************

The first thing E’darin became aware of was the searing pain of his shoulder and the fact that somehow he was still alive.  He opened his mismatched eyes to be staring at the rough planks of some kind of ceiling. 

 “Good te see yer awake lad, thought  Llymlaen was gonna call ye te the sea several times.” a voice said to his side

Carefully turning his head he saw the wizened face of an elderly Roegadyn smiling at him a bowl of water in her hands, bandages on her arms.

“Te be honest ma’am thought she was gonna to, How did I end up ‘ere last I recall was floatin midsea looking at some demon o a dragon intent on destroyin the world.”  He rasped

The Roe simply nodded replying, “Ye washed up on the beach here gave most o the village a further fright.  They thought ye was a spirit sent te attack by that same beast.  Then when they realized ye were just a shipwrecked cat they dragged ye te me shack te be seen to.  Now lets get them bandages changed.”

Carefully pushing himself up he looked dispassionately on as she undid the soiled bandages hissing in pain.  As he saw the wound he realized it could have been worse and the Roe as if reading his thoughts stated, “Ye got lucky lad any further in n it woulda been yer heart.”

Nodded he asked, “Will it interfere with me using an axe?”

Studying him for a moment she replied, “So long as ye wait fer it te heal probably not, I got the ball outta there n there wasn't much damage te the bone seems the muscle took the brunt o it.”

Nodding in understanding he let her finish her  ministrations then leaned back, “Guess I gotta impose upon yer hospitality fer a bit ma’am”

She gave him a gap toothed grin in response, “As if I’d ever complain bout a handsom cat in me home.  Mind ye yer not me type I prefer em broader n more green but yer pretty face’ll do in a pinch te look at.”

He gave her a hearty laugh then settled down to sleep deciding it was best to allow himself to heal before determining his next course.  As if it were trying to tell him it would be the one his head pounded once more and he heard the words again  Hear….Feel….Think.   

Just what am I supposed te be hearing, feeling n thinking bout? He mentally asked the strange unheard voice.  Guess I’ll have te see what course allows me just that just so ye shut up.

With that he allowed sleep to take him the last thing he heard was the elderly Roe closing the door behind her shuffling footsteps.

[kittinoir]

Phantoms Ch. 10

Read on Ao3

Content warning for Claustrophobia. Feel free to message me for more details

Queen Bee couldn’t stop pacing.

Ladybug was not stupid. If anything, she was renowned for cleverness. If she didn’t think Gabriel Agreste was Hawk Moth, then he probably wasn’t. 

Then again, neither she nor Adrien had realized their partner in crime was their classmate for literal years. How much of him being cleared had been the result of neither Ladybug or Chat Noir wanting it to be someone else? At the very least, it deserved a second look with fresh eyes.

Her eyes.

At least, that was what she was planning to tell Felix when he showed up.

“I know I make it look easy,” Felix said as he stepped through a portal and onto the roof as if on cue, “But I can’t always drop everything to run to you on a moments notice. I’m not a dog.”

Queen Bee smirked as she eyed the dog Miraculous she knew was hidden beneath his starched collar. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Felix said, turning back to the portal where a confused Pegasus was looking back and forth between them from the other side.

“I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say,” Queen Bee said quickly.

“Put it in a message.”

“It’s sensitive information.”

Felix paused, his back to her. Queen Bee was aware of every painful thump of her heart as he stood there, debating. Finally, he waved to Pegasus and the portal closed.

“Well?” he said, turning back around.

“I have a lead,” she said, suddenly trying to figure out how to start. She’d planned to just lay it at his feet and impress the boy who wasn’t impressed by anything, but in thinking about Adrien, she couldn’t help but remember that Gabriel, horrible father that he might be, was also Felix’s uncle. “Gabriel Agreste.”

For a moment, Felix just stared at her. And then he buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking.

Queen Bee blinked, unsure what to do next. Disbelief, anger, she’d expected. But crying…?

“I, uh, know this is hard to hear,” Queen Bee said, lifting a hand to comfort him before hesitating and dropping it again. “But I have reason to believe it’s a good lead. I know he’s family, but if you just listen…”

Felix’s shoulders started shaking harder, but then he threw his head back and Queen Bee saw he wasn’t crying, but convulsing with laughter so hard it was silent.

“Gabriel…?” Felix gasped, clutching his ribs. “You think the man that doesn’t even have time for his own son has time to take on the heroes of Paris?”

“I think that Ladybug and Chat Noir got the original grimoire from him before they knew what it was,” Queen Bee snapped, “And there’s only one reason he’d have it.”

“The man’s an eccentric billionaire,” Felix sneered. “One reason? Try a thousand. He’s a collector. He’d want the grimoire just because it’s one of a kind and worth a fortune. He probably has it on display under a glass case.”

“It’s not like he offered it up when Ladybug and Chat Noir needed it,” Queen Bee said.

“Why would he?” Felix asked. “Like I said, eccentric billionaire. When have they ever cared about anything but themselves? Gabriel’s not smart enough or motivated enough to be Hawk Moth. The man hasn’t even left his house in years; where would he have gotten the Miraculous from?”

“The same place he got the grimoire,” Queen Bee tried, but Felix just scoffed.

“An auction?”

“Name one reason it couldn’t be him!” Queen Bee snarled.

“I’ve already given you three,” Felix shot back.

“You really don’t think it’s even worth a second look - even if his house is smack in the middle of your stupid map?” Queen Bee thrust the paper out towards him, the graphic side out so he could see the big, red circle she’d put around the Agreste Mansion.

“I think,” Felix snarled, striding up to her and snatching the map out of her hands, “That if there were two kwamis in one house, either Plagg or Nooroo would have noticed. I think that  if Gabriel were Hawk Moth, he’d have suspected his son by now and targeted him. I think he has no motive, and I think you’re wasting my time."

Queen Bee fisted her hands by her side as Felix folded the map back up and shoved it into his pocket. She was used to being dismissed. She knew Felix could be as mean as she was. She didn’t know why she’d thought he’d be any different.

“Why did you even let me in on your little hunt if you weren’t going to accept my help?” she asked. She would not cry. She would not cry. She would not cry. Not in front of him, and certainly not because of him.

“I thought your ‘help’ would be better than that,” Felix said. “I guess that was my mistake.”

“If I wanted to be talked to like this, I would have stayed home,” Queen Bee sneered. She released her yoyo and turned her back on Felix, hoping he couldn’t see how badly his words stung. 

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here,” Queen Bee snarled over her shoulder, shooting him one last venomous look. His face remained impassive, and she left him there on the rooftop as she began her own patrol. It wasn’t technically her day, but she hoped that as much as Kagami didn’t like her, she and Ivan wouldn’t mind her crashing. She wasn’t ready to go home yet.

Careening through the streets of Paris with Miraculous-fuelled abilities was usually the perfect fix for whatever was eating her that day, but her fight with Felix wouldn’t leave her alone. It was obvious that he thought she was stupid, no matter what he’d claimed. He hadn’t really wanted her advice as much as he’d wanted a cheerleader, someone to brag to - and who better than the girl who never thought about anyone but herself? Two challenges wrapped up with a neat little bow, a fun distraction while he hunted the real threat. 

For the first time in her life, Queen Bee wanted to hit something. She bit her lip to stifle the feeling as she finally paused to rest at the top of the Eiffel Tower. The metal would crumple under her fist, she knew, if she followed her instinct. It was fading now anyway, along with her frustration. So what if Felix had used her? She didn’t need him. She didn’t need any of them. She never had. 

But as she looked out over the city, she suddenly realized why she felt calmer: she’d already made her own decision.

Gabriel had spent good money fencing in his mansion, but it hadn’t been designed to withstand the Miraculous. Still, even with her enhanced eye-sight, she was too far away to get a good enough look. A few quick maneuvers had Queen Bee dropping silently over the wall and into some bushes. She scanned the side of the house as best she could through the foliage, noting the security cameras. Hopefully none of them had caught her entrance. 

Queen Bee darted through the gap in their coverage to a tree, aiming for the wall of Adrien’s windows. If he could come and go as Chat Noir without revealing himself, then it was probably a sure way in, especially since he was too busy with fencing to wonder why she was there.

Sure enough, a few moments later she was sailing through Adrien’s open window and into his room. Queen Bee crossed the space but hesitated at the door. Would it be better to do reconnaissance as ‘Chloe’ or should she remain transformed? If she was spotted as Chloe, Gabriel would be confused about why she was there, but if she remained Queen Bee, she could fabricate a senti-monster attack - unless he really was Hawk Moth - but then Mayura would be…

“Nathalie,” Queen Bee breathed as it all lined up. Adrien had mentioned she’d fallen ill recently; was it because she’d been using the broken Peacock Miraculous? Queen Bee made her choice. It was too dangerous to go in untransformed. She’d have to take the risk. If Gabriel wasn’t Hawk Moth, he’d buy her cover. If he was…well, hopefully she’d have the element of surprise. Maybe he’d play along to protect his own identity. 

“Please let me be wrong,” Queen Bee whispered, and then she opened the door. 

She didn’t know what she expected. In the handful of times she’d visited Adrien, the house had appeared the same: silent and empty.

But it wasn’t empty. At least, it shouldn’t have been. She could see Gabriel’s study from Adrien’s door in the hall, but no personal assistant was posted outside to screen callers. Perhaps he hadn’t replaced Nathalie. Perhaps the new one was busy running an errand. Or perhaps the eccentric billionaire wasn’t where everyone always assumed he was.

Queen Bee checked her yoyo, but there was no active akuma attack. 

Maybe she was wrong. 

The thought crept in as she inched down the stairs towards the study. Maybe she was totally off. Maybe Ladybug and Chat Noir had been right. 

But even as she thought it, the coincidences wouldn’t stop lining up: how Gabriel’s ‘wine cellar’ wasn’t actually in the basement no one ever saw, but an offshoot of the kitchen; how the three story mansion he owned only actually went up two floors; how she’d seen a window from the outside as she’d dropped in that she couldn’t find the room for inside.

There was only one way to be sure.

Taking a deep breath, Queen Bee seized the handle of Gabriel’s study, threw open the door, and strode inside. 

Empty. Just as she’d thought. 

But then where was Gabriel Agreste? 

She didn’t stop and waste time thinking about it. His absence proved nothing. At least, it wouldn’t prove anything to Felix. She needed something concrete, a reason to convince him to at least consider it, if only to rule him out. 

So she made her way to the shelves of designs and mannequins, running her fingers over their edges, pulling them to see if they’d release a trap door, but…it was just an office. It didn’t prove anything, either. A man as rich as Gabriel could afford to have a second residence, a lair separate from his home. But if he did…there would be tax records for it.

Queen Bee made her way to the desk, trying to ignore the way her skin prickled as she drew near. If she was right, she was standing at the desk of the man who had been terrorizing her home for two years. If she was wrong, she was totally invading the privacy of her best friend’s dad. It was hard not to feel self-conscious when that enormous portrait of Adrien’s mother was right behind her, watching her every move. 

But there was nothing. The desk had no drawers, and when she grazed the angled surface, it lit up, revealing it was actually a giant tablet. There were no filing cabinets and no files anywhere in the room.

“Of course,” Queen Bee muttered, rolling her eyes. “A man as high tech as Gabriel Agreste wouldn’t have any papers lying around. Still, would’ve been nice if he could have left out a file marked ‘top secret evil plan’ in big red letter for me to find.”

Queen Bee sighed and turned back toe Emilie’s portrait as she leaned back against the desk. She studied it for a moment, letting her eyes randomly follow the swirls and eddies as disappointment settled along her bones. It wasn’t that she was upset Gabriel was looking less and less like a probable suspect. If anything she was glad she wasn’t going to have to have that conversation with Adrien. It was Felix she wasn’t looking forward to talking to. She didn’t think she’d been wrong, but she knew he wouldn’t see it that way. Not that she particularly cared.

“He really misses you, you know,” Queen Bee whispered. She reached out, tracing the line of Emilie’s sleeve with one finger. Chloe had gone to her funeral, but with a closed casket, it had felt like the opportunity to say goodbye had been missed, and they were the ghosts, struggling to pick up the pieces she’d left when she’d gone. Chloe hadn’t known how to comfort Adrien, so she’d simply sat beside him in silence, on and off for months, until he’d finally started to wake back up. It was part of the reason Gabriel terrified her so much: not because of his austere nature, but because he was a reminder of what Adrien could have become. 

Queen Bee froze, her attention snapping back to the painting as she slowly ran her finger back up the canvas. There! She slid her finger over one of the black feather-things and it dipped a little, like a button. 

Of course! Marinette had mentioned the grimoire but it hadn’t been anywhere in the office. It was too valuable - it would probably be in safe. A safe behind the painting! A high tech man liked Gabriel wouldn’t waste time on a traditional dial-lock; of course he’d have this painting decoy installed. The only thing between her and it was if it was also finger-print coded.

Queen Bee took a deep breath and pushed the button.

And nothing happened. 

“It doesn’t do anything?” She frowned. Hopefully she hadn’t just called for assistance. Maybe it was a glorified Alexa. Of course Gabriel wouldn’t want something like an Alexa just sitting around his office.

But no one came. If anything, the house was more silent than before.

“Must be a trick to it…” Queen Bee mumbled, leaning in. “Maybe it really is finger-print coded. Suspicious, but still not enough to convince Felix…”

As she lifted her finger, though, she saw it: the discolouration in the paint where months, maybe years of someone pressing their greasy little finger tips to the canvas had worn it down. Not finger-print coded, then.  

She scanned the canvas and caught sight of a second discoloured spot, and a third. Within second, she’d uncovered six discoloured spots, two areas in groups of three: two hands. She has to stand on her tip toes to reach the furthest one, but when she’d gotten into position, she didn’t hesitate: she pushed them.

And screamed when the floor opened up beneath her, a small platform descending into darkness. 

Queen Bee crashed gracelessly to the carpeted floor, whacking her elbow on the desk. If anyone was in the house and hadn’t known she was there, they did now, but she couldn’t quite make herself care about anything except how grateful she was she hadn’t been standing directly on the platform when she’d pushed the buttons. 

Shaking slightly from the adrenaline now shooting through her blood, Queen Bee got back to her feet and pulled out her yoyo. She snapped a photo of the now-empty shaft with the painting in the background and sent it to Felix with a short message: ‘Still think this is a waste of time?’

She sent it off and returned to the shaft.

It could still be anything. It could be nothing. It could lead to an in-home theatre or bowling alley or pool. It could be where Gabriel kept all of his designs on mannequins. It could be just another secret passage in a rich persons house. God knew there was more than one in the Grand Palais.

But this didn’t feel like that. If it were, why weren’t there any normal entrances to the space anywhere in the house? Not even emergency stairs in case of a power outage. Why was Gabriel so protective of it? Why had Adrien never mentioned it?

There was only one way to find out. 

Queen Bee released her yoyo and, with a flick of her wrist, sent the top wrapping around the leg of Gabriel’s desk. She tugged on it, and, as she’d suspected, it held. Something that high-tech would have been bolted to the floor to run the wires through it the way he had. 

Queen Bee gripped the other end firmly in her hand, the wire wrapped around her fingers a few times, but paused before she jumped.

She was the one who insisted they loop Ladybug and Chat Noir into their plans if they found anything solid. She was the one who insisted they don’t take Hawk Moth on alone. 

In the end, it was Adrien that decided it for her. She could deal with Felix’s nay-saying and Marientte’s disappointment, but she couldn’t handle the pain it would cause Adrien if she didn’t have anything concrete to go on. She had to be sure. She had to have proof. Something more than a suspicious hole in the ground. She couldn’t leave him wondering.

So she took a step and dropped into the darkness. 

The shaft was tight, nearly brushing both Queen Bee’s shoulders as she made a controlled descent. Her breath bounced back into her face as the sound of her breathing echoed in the small space. Small blue lights built into the walls prevented it from being pitch black. She hadn’t gone more than a few feet when the passage abruptly widened, splitting into two shafts, one that continued down and one that went sideways, a tunnel under the house.

“Two secret rooms,” Queen Bee whispered to herself as she paused to study the fork. “Both of them only accessible from Gabriel’s highly private office.” Interesting, but as usual, proved nothing. 

“First one, than the other,” Queen Bee murmured, continuing her descent. Maybe one just led to his bedroom. It would explain why Adrien never saw him, but if that was something she stumbled across, she didn’t think she’d ever recover.

Queen Bee continued to drop for another minute, straight down until she noticed the light in the tunnel brightening as she approached the opening. She came to a stop, her toes inches from the opening. Whatever was out there, it would prove her right, one way or the other. Either she was about to drop into a private library, or Hawk Moth’s layer - and for the first time, she found herself actually hoping Felix had been right. 

And that was when she saw it: the tiny white butterfly that flit by the glass tube that descended into the room.

Queen Bee let herself drop slowly into the room as her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears. She already knew what she would see, but knowing couldn’t prepare her for the horror of the reality.

Several dozen bushed lined the room, as large as the footprint of the house itself. And on them, thousands upon thousands of cocoons, matched only by the number of white butterflies that drifted through the room. 

Queen Bee stepped silently forward as she touched down, tying her yoyo string off on one of the less-occupied branches as she took in the cold reality of the room. This was it. It was more than proof; it was Hawk Moth’s private garden, the place he bred his akumas. And Hawk Moth was Gabriel Agreste. She might not have a photo for proof, but this… Felix would have to listen to this.

And even if she didn’t, she didn’t care. Marinette, she knew, would. For she much as she hadn’t liked the girl, as much grief as Chloe had caused her, she would listen. And she would believe her. 

Queen Bee took another step and a runway suddenly lit up. Maybe it had been Gabriel’s gallery once upon a time - before his hobbies had taken a decided evil bent. She could picture the mannequins lined up, the crown piece from each collection on display. There were no mannequins now - just a cylinder at the end.

Queen Bee’s blood froze in her veins as she took it all in. Her instincts told her to run, but if it was some kind of secret weapon, some horrible senti-monster he and Mayura were cooking up, they needed to know. She knew she was pushing her luck as she jogged to the cylinder, but she couldn’t leave without knowing. 

She could see the glass was opaque as she approached, but like every high tech thing in Gabriel’s house, it adjusted once she got closer, clearing to reveal Emilie Agreste’s very pale, very preserved face.

Queen Bee fell back, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. 

This was it, she realized as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. This was why Gabriel had become Hawk Moth, why he needed Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous. To bring back his wife. 

Queen Bee jerked as she felt a sudden sting at her neck, and then there he was, looming over her as her knees gave out.

“Still beautiful,” Hawk Moth crooned, gazing at Emilie’s still face as he wrapped an iron arm around Queen Bee’s shoulders to keep her standing. “Even after all this time.”

“You’re sick,” Queen Bee barked. She tried to push away, but there was no strength in her arms.

“And you’re one of Adrien’s closest friends,” Hawk Moth said as he dragged her closer to the casket. “Surely you of all people can understand why I must do this.”

“Adrien…wouldn’t want this,” Queen Bee slurred. The room had begun to spin, and it was while she was trying to look anywhere but at Emilie she noticed the syringe in Hawk Moth’s hand. “What’d…you do…t’me?”

“Succinylcholine,” Hawk Moth said, glancing down at her. “I don’t want to fight you, Chloe. I want your help.”

“I’d never…help you,” Queen Bee mumbled. Black dots had begun to crowd her vision and she couldn’t feel her legs anymore. She suspected the only reason she wasn’t unconscious already was because her Miraculous was fighting it.

“But we make such a good team,” Hawk Moth said with a knowing grin. “You’re so much more powerful when we work together. And now you know, I’m doing this for my family. I never wanted to hurt anyone; I just need the Miraculous.”

“S’wrong,” Queen Bee said. She was vaguely aware of her knees hitting the hard, steel walkway, then the cool metal beneath her cheek, but wasn’t entirely sure how she’d ended up that way.

“You’ll see,” Hawk Moth said, but he sounded so far away. “I’ll make…help me…”

“…No…” 

She thought she said it, but she wasn’t sure. Her last thoughts were of Felix, and how he might have been right about it being smarter to leave Gabriel alone after all. Then everything went dark.

And upstairs, in Gabriel’s study, Queen Bee’s yoyo unwound and dissolved with pop, vanishing without a trace. 

[kcrabb88]

I was tagged by @aflamethatneverdies! <3 Thank you friend! Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

I have more than 20 fics but am doing less than 20 here because it would make quite a long post! This is a good smattering of my more recent fics. I’m definitely noticing a pattern of my first lines really honing in on a character, or trying to create a Mood using the setting around them. 

And the Sea Stopped It’s Roaring- Phantom of the Opera (Girl Raoul AU)

Raoul de Chagny didn’t mean to slip away from her aunt.

She just…lost track.

When She Heard You Sing- Phantom of the Opera (Girl Raoul AU)

Some things change, as the years pass. Some things, however, things like twenty-three-year-old Raoul de Chagny ignoring her elder brother at the breakfast table, never do.

And the Soul Felt It’s Worth- Les Mis 

Paris was cold to begin with.

Enjolras liked the cold, though he did not particularly care for the early sunsets it brought. A shiver passed over him, and he slid his gloved hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. The air smelled thick and fresh, the clouds above puffy with precipitation, but no snow had yet arrived, just the refrozen ice encrusted between the paving stones, a crunching sound resounding from beneath the soles of his shoes. He walked along the Île de la Cité, moonlight glimmering silver off the dark waters of the Seine.

She Was Bound to Love You Series- Phantom of the Opera (Girl Raoul AU)

Raoul de Chagny has never claimed to be anything other than a hopeless romantic.

Except, well, she wasn’t expecting to melt into her seat when she opened the program at the opera, because she wasn’t expecting to see Christine Daae’s name inside.

Christine Daae.

Between the Soul and the Star- Les Mis 

Bahorel comes up with the plan to bust through the barricade.

Enjolras isn’t surprised.

He is surprised Bahorel’s standing, frankly. Blood’s been slowly dripping from a bayonet wound near his ribcage, his shirt and red waistcoat ripped through.

That Same Calm and Dreamy Cast of Mind- Phantom of the Opera

Raoul rows them back across the lake.

He slips an arm around her waist, tight, like he's afraid Erik might run up behind them and snatch her right out of his hands. But not too tight, not like he owns her, not like Erik's hands around her neck, not like, you’ll be with me or no one, because Raoul has always cared most of all about her and her safety, her life, her happiness, whatever that meant about the two of them.

As If It Might Turn Out This Time- Hadestown

"Make the king feel young again!" Hades slams the stool down on the ground beside him with a great, echoing roar, and Persephone knows that look in his eyes. That shattered, vulnerable, dangerous look he only gets when she's clawed at something too deep inside him. Except, Orpheus isn’t Hades' wife. He isn’t a god who doesn’t really need to fear Hades’ anger in any kind of physical way. He’s a mortal. A mortal who is already exhausted and beaten up and too skinny besides, like a twig that might break at the slightest touch.

Echoing a Song- Les Mis Hadestown AU 

Would you believe it if I told you there is a railroad in an old, hollowed out Parisian sewer tunnel?

Would you believe it if I told you it leads to a place caught between life and death? A place where France sends the people it doesn't want anymore? Rebels. Prostitutes. Thieves. The list goes on. It’s not always about the gravity of the crime. It’s more about the danger the criminal poses to the status quo. It’s about the people who have that spark in their eyes. You know the one. Toulon, and everyone involved in it, aims to snuff that out. Well, at least that used to be true. And not so long ago.

A Sort of Electric Spark- Les Mis 

An impossible, raven-black midnight falls over the barricade.

Enjolras looks up at the sky, searching for any scattered stars. He finds a few, latching onto their dim light and pulling that light into himself. The crescent moon is lost among the deep, impenetrable black, the clouds holding it hostage. Enjolras sits down on the ground in a dark, shadowed corner outside the Corinthe, snatching just a tiny fraction of a moment alone. He looks toward the Corinthe itself, weak candlelight spilling out from the window of the room where their ill and dead lay. The orange glow drips onto the paving stones outside, revealing the smears of red-brown blood on the stone.

Bahorel is dead.

For my favorite line, I’ll do a bonus look at the first lines of the new and revamped Sailing by Orion’s Star, which was obviously once a fic.

Nicholas Jerome has not uttered a prayer since he was twelve years old.

Not once.

He doesn’t pray when he’s in his hammock at night, inches away from the next sailor. He doesn’t pray when storms transform the sea into a mythic monster frothing at the mouth, when thunder rattles the whole ship and his soul along with it, Davy Jones whispering promises of death in his ear.

Never.

I’ll no-pressure tag a few people! @amarguerite, @enigma731, @4beit

[cielabeck]

Is It Really You? Chapter 1: With a Glance Back

Three Swords.

Three Villains.

Three Heroes.

One from the winds, one who once was a cowardly captain, and one who can shed her skin to become a wolf. They must sail the oceans, cross worlds, and traverse through time to save a newly made wife, a certain golden fairy-turned-hylian, and the first prince in a long line of princesses. First Book in the Really Trilogy.

.....

Oshus strolled out of his home, his red staff falling onto the dirt path with muted taps. He gazed around, noting the absence of Ciela near his home. Despite having a temple that she needed to reside in, Ciela chose to remain living in Oshus' hut, only transporting herself to the Temple of Courage for a quick scan and resetting of the protective barriers.

 When asked about this, Ciela would simply shrug and state that the temple did not feel like home anymore. She would then deter any further attempts at prying, not wanting to let them know the true reason. That she didn't want to remain in the temple because while she flew through the halls, phantom footsteps of a young hero would follow her.

 Oshus cast out his powers, noting that all three of his servants were on Mercay.  Neri and Leaf's presences glowed brightly with their essence. Ciela's presence, however, was almost muted, a low drum of essence. When Oshus increased his presence against Ciela's, her essence flared up, letting Oshus know that she was okay. When Oshus retreated, her essence flared back down.

 Oshus let out a low sigh, closing his eyes in worry for his youngest servant, knowing that Ciela's low essence was because of the separation from Link and Linebeck. Ciela had become close with the pair, and was upset with knowing that her journey with them had to come to an end when Bellum was finally defeated .

 "Ciela's essence hasn't been this low since the loss of..." Oshus cut himself off, not letting the name pass his lips. What had been done, was done. There was no hope with that situation.

 But the current situation.... Oshus let out a low sigh, seeing as there was only one path to take, unless he wanted  to watch Ciela become only a shadow of her personality. Neri and Leaf would not desire this, but Oshus knew that Ciela's heart now rested among a special pair of Hylians. A smile graced his face under his beard. Or... If he had to be specific, with a certain fool of a captain.

 Oshus summoned Neri to him, wanting to inform his decision to her first. Knowing of Leaf and Ciela's past romantic entanglements, he knew that Leaf would react more harshly to it.

 "Yes, Ocean King?" Neri immediately said, landing on Oshus's offered hand.  "Why have you called me to your side?"

 "I need the location of Ciela. The lowness of her essence has been worrying me for quite some time now." Oshus began, looking out across the ocean.

 Neri bowed her head. "I know what you mean, Ocean King. It hasn't been this low since the days after... " Neri jerked her head upright, eyes fearful. "You don't think that Ciela is remembering... her?"

 Oshus frowned at Neri. "You need not speak with such an ill tone in your words." Shaking his head, Oshus resumed his position. "But to sooth your worries, no, I do not believe that Ciela is remembering that part of her history. I have a feeling that we would have a very different Ciela on our hands. A very angry Ciela." The god added in a dark undertone.

 "Though, why I have need of Ciela's location, it does deal with the matters of her heart." Oshus continued.

 Neri flew off Oshus' hand. "Meaning what exactly?" She demanded, flying to be level with Oshus’ face. "What matter of the heart could be causing such a essence drop in Ciela? Or for that matter, what decision have you made for Ciela?!"

 "In the time that Ciela had traveled with them, Link and Linebeck had become family to Ciela, and with Linebeck, something that could have been more under different circumstances. Upon losing them, Ciela had lost family." Oshus explained. "So, I have made the choice to send her to the land of the Goddesses, as a Hylian, so she may rejoin them."

 Neri stopped almost all moment, minus the beating of her wings. "What..." She whispered, eyes horrified. "Oshus, can't you just... remove her memories of them? Like before?"

 Oshus glared at Neri, anger of the sea intense in his eyes. "I listened to that advice once, and only followed it because in not doing it, it may have meant forfeiting Ciela's life. In this, to take away those memories, it could destroy Ciela as we know her. Altering her memories that prominently again could very well do so." Oshus closed his eyes. "I will not alter her memories again. Ciela has a path and if this is where it intends to guide her, so be it. Do you understand?" Oshus opened his eyes, fixing them on the blue spirit.

 Not wanting the wrath of the Ocean King on her, Neri bobbed her head once, thoroughly chastised. "Yes, Ocean King, I understand." She stated, gazing down at her clasped  hands, not wanting to stare any longer into Oshus's eyes. The millenniums held within them always made her feel like she was drowning. "Ciela is standing on the east side of the island, looking out at the sea. May I accompany you?"

 "You may." Oshus replied, already moving for the east side of the island. "I'm certain you will want to say your goodbyes."

 Neri followed in silence for the first half of the journey, consumed with confusion on Oshus' choice of actions and what will follow because of it. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore, and spoke once more.

 "Oshus, once you send Ciela on her way... Who will become the new Spirit of Time and Courage?"

 "I believe that someone will present themselves accordingly. It may take some time, but a new spirit will come about." Oshus replied, voice steady. He did not falter in his steps at Neri's inquiry.

 Neri nodded, having to trust that Oshus knew what he was doing, no matter what outcomes may come about for the King's Ocean, herself, Leaf-.

 Neri's train of thought cut off at the thought of the Spirit of Power. "Ocean King, what about Leaf? He still has feelings for Ciela..."

 Seemingly knowing when he was being talked about, the Spirit of Power flew up beside Neri. "Hey, Oshus, Neri." He said, being less formal than the Spirit of Wisdom. "What's going on?"

 Unable to help herself, Neri blurted out. "Oshus plans to send Ciela to the Great Sea. Permanently."

 Leaf grew unnaturally still, much like Neri upon hearing this information. "...What..." He said in a forced whisper.

 Oshus stopped to turn and face Leaf, eyes soft. "Ciela is unhappy here. Yes, we are her family, but she longs for the family she made twenty-eight years ago."

 "What about our Spirit of Time and Courage?!" Leaf cried out angrily, just managing to choke back the angry words of "what about me?!"

 "As I told Neri, someone will present themselves in due time." Oshus replied, turning back around to continue on his path.

 Leaf's face twisted into an angry snarl. "So that's it. Because Ciela misses her precious Link and Linebeck, she will be sent from us permanently-"

 A sharp slap echoed through the clearing, cutting off Leaf. The Spirit of Power raised a hand to his cheek, staring at Neri in disbelief.

 Neri hovered a few inches away from him, her hand she used to slap Leaf still in the air. She looked more in shock about her actions, but soon made her expression firm. "How can you be so selfish!?" She snapped, face darkened with anger, her glow turning purple to match. "Yes, I'm upset about this too, but that is no means to ignore Ciela's feelings and wants! I just cannot believe what you are saying!" She swung her arm back down, closing her eyes.

 "That's real rich, coming from you!" Leaf barked, red glow becoming a reddish brown with his anger. "You were the one pushing for Ciela's mind to be wiped. You didn't give a single damn about her feelings then! You only care about your little sister when it's easy to do so!"

"This is different and you know it, Leaf!" Neri screamed back, loosing herself in her anger.

 "That's enough from the both of you!" came the thunderous voice of Oshus, now a short distance from the arguing spirits. He had turned back once more, eyes black in their fury.

 Neri immediately felt chilled, and silenced herself, anger becoming doused with shame at being caught bickering like a child.

 However Leaf, with a self righteous huff, whirled around and shot off into the air. After he was gone, Neri let out a rush of air, expression becoming weary.  

 Oshus stared after the red fairy. "Jealousy does not bode well for a Spirit of Power." He did not comment any further on Neri and Leaf's spat.

 Neri only nodded sadly, watching the red ball of light fade into the distance.

 …

Some distance from Oshus and Neri, Ciela stood on the edge of the cliff, in her hylian sized fairy form. She gazed down at the waves crashing against the rocks, letting the sea air tickle her golden hair and gently shift her wings. She closed her eyes, fighting against memories that forced themselves into her thoughts.  

     “Well, thank goodness for that fact. After a year, I was getting tired of having to see your face every single day!”  

     “Fine then, if that’s how you’re gonna be, Sparkles! Get the hell out of here, and good riddance to you!”  

 Ciela’s eyes flew open, the last words she heard from Linebeck stinging her heart. She screwed  shut her eyes, protesting against the tears. That was her last chance to make everything right with that stupid captain. To reveal that she feelings for him ever since the day that he had shared  a brief part of his dark past, and, and... And she just fought with him and let him go with her heart broken, never to be mended .

 Ciela shook her head, disgusted. “It’s been seven years for him and Link and twenty-eight for me!" Ciela bowed her head in defeat, letting the tears fall. "Why can't I just let you guys go?" She whispered. In her mind, the images of Link and Linebeck flashed before her eyes.

 Ciela drew up her arms, wrapping them around herself in a poor attempt to comfort herself. Her heart ached for her companions, and though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, Linebeck especially. "Though why would he care for me? The damn prick probably doesn't even remember me." Dropping her arms, Ciela turned around, already mentally preparing for the transformation to fairy size. This was interrupted when she came face to face with Oshus, Neri bobbing behind the old man.

 Ciela gave a start, jumping back a few steps in alarm before she realized who it was.

 “Gah! Grandpa, you gotta stop sneaking up behind me." Ciela gasped out, massaging her chest, quickly rubbing away the tears, trying to hide that she had been crying.

 “Forgive me, Ciela. I did not mean to scare you. I simply want to ask you something." Oshus replied, settling into a standing position.

 "Ask away, Grandpa." Ciela said, crossing her arms, trying to keep her tone casual. She mentally flinched when she realized how close that pose was to Linebeck. She quickly opted to keep her arms to be held stiffly by her sides.

 Neri felt lost and confuse at Ciela being in such a state over two hylians. She just couldn't understand it. Still, Neri gazed at Ciela, eyes filled with worry and hurt. "You really do miss them... don't you?" A flash of sky blue light and Neri joined Ciela in being Hylian sized, taking steps to be nearer to Ciela. "How can you miss two hylians you knew would be leaving you, no matter what?"

 "Well, Neri, I didn't always know that! You seemed  to have forgotten that I had to spend nine years with no clue as to who the hell I was!" Ciela snapped back, anger flaring. "Yes, I had Grandpa, but Link and Linebeck... they were something more." Ciela struggled to say more, but can't find the words on how she felt. Instead, she ungracefully clawed the air before throwing her arms down with a huff. "They gave me a sense of self, okay? Before the Temple of Courage, before I remembered  that they had to leave... I started  to think that... maybe I should just give up on ever regaining my memories, and simply stay with the super dysfunctional family that we three created with each other." Her shoulders slumped. "You know how well that turned out..."

 Ciela went to shove past Neri, fighting tears again. Oshus' staff being set in front of her stopped her. Only out of respect to Oshus, did Ciela remain in hylian form and not switch to fairy size and zip away.

 "Yes, Grandpa?" Ciela sighed, feeling suddenly very weary.

 "As you very emotionally stated, Link and Linebeck were family to you and you miss them very much, Linebeck especially." Oshus stated.

 Ciela reeled back as if she was slapped . "Why would I miss that superficial idiot?!" She snapped, eyes narrowing. She thought that she wasn't being that obvious...

 "Your essence has been low and continuing to dip ever since the pair left my realm. Also, whenever Linebeck is mentioned, your essence briefly flares then drops even further. I simply drew conclusions from there." Oshus explained .

 Ciela hanged her head, letting her hair fall in front of her face, shielding her emotions. She had forgotten how closely Oshus monitored their essences. "Yes, then, I miss Link and.. and even that moronic captain." She gave up in a monotone.

 Silence filled the air. Neri faced the opposite way of Ciela, gaze downcast. "So if you had a way... to rejoin them... Would you take it?" Neri whispered.

 Ciela gave off no reaction except to simply let her shoulders stiffen.

 "Would you?" Neri asked again, determined to get an answer out of Ciela. She didn't want to lose the Spirit of Time and Courage, less so her sister... But Oshus’ words on how much Ciela was becoming torn up over Link and Linebeck was becoming more and more clear to her. She internally kicked herself for being so blind before, having let her high standing loyalty to her spirit powers affect her judgement. “Again…”  Neri admonished herself.  

 "I don't know..." Ciela quietly returned, not looking at anyone.

 Neri let out a huff of frustration and whirled around. She grabbed Ciela's shoulders and whipped the golden spirit around. "Would you    ?!" Neri demanded. She hated getting angry at Ciela, but she would be so stubborn at times!

 "I DON'T KNOW!" Ciela screamed, glaring at Neri in vexation, body strung taut like a bowstring while she waited for the Spirit of Wisdom’s next move.

 Neri released Ciela, letting a moment of silence fall between the two before speaking again. "Ciela... I would like you to not leave. I would like you to remain here, and continue your duties as the Spirit of Time and Courage. However... My eyes have been open to your pain.  I can no longer not notice that the leaving of Link and Linebeck has hurt you." Neri let her sapphire eyes bore into Ciela's, her tears causing them to sparkle. "So I ask you Ciela... If you could leave... If you could go and join Link and Linebeck... would you take it?"

 Ciela felt the silence choking her as she struggled to find an answer to Neri’s words. She swallowed once, twice, three times, mouth suddenly feeling dry. Her body trembled like a snowflake being tossed in a blizzard, breathing going funny.

 "Yes.”

 No louder than a breath, yet for all of them, the words infused with meaning for Ciela’s future. Upon saying it, Ciela herself felt drained, her body freed from some great weight. She only felt relief upon finally being able to speak the truth in her heart.

  “I would take it... I miss Link so much... and yes, I... love.... Linebeck...." Ciela continued in a hushed voice. Her eyes lost focus as her memories of her companions filled her mind. "I would do anything... if I could travel with them again..."

 "Even at the cost of losing everything you ever known?" Oshus gently asked, knowing the answer.

 "I already lost everything once, so yes, even at that cost." Ciela said, nodding her head in a dazed manner.

 Neri let out a sob, enveloping Ciela into a bone-crushing hug, wishing that she didn't have to let go. "Then you better not forget about us... Alright?"

 Ciela pried Neri off of her, bringing herself back to reality. "Ners, what are you going on about? I can't leave... Not even if I wanted  to..."

 "Heh... heh..." Oshus let out an amused chuckle. "Ciela, you seemed to forget that I'm a god... One who has done transformation of my children before. I can easily change your state into a Hylian born under the Goddesses laws."

 "What?" Ciela said, whirling around to face Oshus with wide eyes. Her tension returned tenfold upon Oshus’s words.

 "I also have the same power as you to open portals into the other worlds. How else would Bellum have been able to send the Ghost Ship to retrieve souls from the Great Sea?" Oshus explained. "But again, you must give up all of your powers so I may transform you into a Hylian such as Link and Linebeck."

 Ciela swallowed hard, slight nausea at what was going to occur. Nonetheless, her words came easily, heart swelling with fledgling hope. "I understand. I still wish for this to happen."

 “Then repeat these words after me.” Oshus raised his staff and gestured for Ciela to take hold of it. She did.

 “Do you, Ciela, Spirit of Time and Courage.” Oshus began, voice becoming infused with his  power.

 “I, Ciela, Spirit of Time and Courage.” Ciela echoed, trying to quell her trembling. She was going to be seeing Link again... and with a hylian body, she might actually have a chance with Linebeck this time around.

 “Do hereby release your spirit powers.”

 “Do hereby release my spirit powers.”

 “In the wish to live in the world ruled under the Goddesses.”

 “In the wish to live in the world ruled under the Goddesses.”

 “Fully knowing that.”

 “Fully knowing that.”

 “You will never possess these powers again?”

 “I will never possess these powers again.”

 "Unless you so chose to wield them again, in dire times."

 "Unless I so chose to wield them again, in dire times." Ciela finished. "Hah! Like that's going to happen."  

 From Ciela's chest, purple and green orbs begin to emanate from her chest. In a pearl white flash, Ciela was again a pearly white color, fluttering in front of Oshus, fairy sized .

 Ciela let out a small gasp of shock, feeling powerless. "Damn, that's gonna be hard to get used  to."  She thinks, gently massaging her chest where her powers left her.

 Oshus gently guided the purple and green orbs into his own chest, storing the power within himself until the new Spirits of Time and Courage presented themselves. "Now Ciela, I will begin transforming you into a hylian."

 Ciela bobbed her fairy form, closing her eyes.

 Ancient words flowed from Oshus' mouth, and Ciela quelled down her worries, knowing there was no going back. Tendrils of Oshus' pure white aura slunk up to meet and surround Ciela's fairy form, forming a cocoon around her.

 Down upon the ground, Neri shielded her eyes, looking away, the light emanating from the cocoon being too bright to look at. "I hope you'll find more happiness with this choice and in the Great Sea, Ciela, than what grief has met you here in this world." She thought, heart clenching. Though, how she hated the fact that Ciela couldn’t find that same happiness here, in her duties as a spirit.

 Inside the cocoon, Ciela opened her eyes to see the pure white aura surrounding her. She watched in delight as sections of the cocoon skim off from the surface, going to wrap around her tiny form. Soon, her entire body was enveloped and her clothing was stripped away. Ciela once more closed her eyes, feeling the power on her skin lengthening out her limbs, her wings pressing against her skin and melting into her body, hair whipping around her.

 The cocoon floated to the ground, having grown in size, decreasing in its intensity. Neri was finally able to gaze at the cocoon, waiting for Ciela to step out.

 The cocoon began to dissipate, the last remnants of it wrapping around Ciela's nude body, creating clothes for the newly made Hylian. Ciela felt the grass under her feet; she grinned and curled her toes up in it, opening her eyes.

 Neri blinked at the woman now standing before her. "Ciela..." She murmured, barely able to recognize her sister.

 Ciela's knee-length, field-of-wheat hair was replaced  with sunrise red hair with highlights of golden yellow so that when Ciela shifted around, the sunlight caught strands of hair, making it seem like it was a rich sunset. Amber eyes changed to the color of a rich sea blue. Her hylian form was actually shorter than her hylian sized spirit form, almost like a nod to her former self. Her clothes ended up changing as well. Instead of her vest and skirt, Ciela was clad in a sun-glow yellow dress. It was long-sleeved and hugged her body enough to show her curves.

 Ciela continued  to twist around to examine herself. "This is really weird... It feels really weird." She giggled, craning her head to see that her winged had indeed disappeared. "The dress is a nice touch however." The now ex-fairy gave off another short giggle and gave a twirl, testing out her new permanent body. She still felt off centered, and demonstrated that by nearly falling on her face. "So this is what being a true Hylian is like."

 Oshus chuckled softly. "I'm glad you like it, Ciela."

 Ciela froze and looked at Oshus and Neri, her mood growing somber. "So... I guess this is  it... where we have to say goodbye..." Ciela swallowed, biting her lip. She glanced around. "Shouldn't Leaf be here as well? So I can say goodbye?"

 Neri pursed her lips. "We met him along the way... He didn't take Oshus letting you go to the Goddesses Realm very well... I think you know why."

 Ciela let out a huff. "Do me a favor then, and kick his butt for me." She went over and took hold of Neri's hands. "Kay?"

 Neri looked up to Ciela, tears spilling onto her cheeks. "Only if you'll do one in return." Neri then gave Ciela another bone crushing hug. "You may a hylian now, but you'll still live quite longer than them. In that time, don't forget your family. E-Even as you go off to m-make a new one."

 Ciela swallowed back down another lump. She knew that she won't be able to return, that this was going to be the last time she would see any of them again. "How could I?" Ciela choked out, resting her head on Neri's shoulder, fiercely hugging the blue fairy as well. “You are my only sister.”

 Neri let out another sob, digging her hands into Ciela’s back.

 They remained holding each other as they cried. Finally, the two separate after somewhat composing themselves. Ciela moved back over to Oshus, wiping away her tears. She also took hold of one of his hands, her own hands trembling with sadness. "Thank you for everything, Grandpa." She choked out, tears spilling from her eyes. She gripped his hand, before letting out another sob and threw her arms around the old man, holding him tight.

 Oshus gently held her in return. "You are most certainly welcome, Ciela." He took Ciela by the shoulders and squeezed them, looking her in the eye. "Now go and fly, my young one. Go off and make a new life with that fool of a captain and Link."

 Ciela let out a shaky laugh, before slowly sliding out of Oshus's hands. "I'll miss you... Even that asshole we call the Spirit of Power."

 “Ciela, language.” Oshus gently reprimanded, eyes sparkling like the moonbeams on the ocean.

 Neri laughed as well, wiping at her eyes uselessly. "We'll miss you as well."

 Familiar fog rolled around the trio, transporting Ciela's mind back to when she had to say farewell to people whom had become family to her. "I'm still saying goodbye to family..." Ciela thought. Nonetheless, a happy feeling began to curl up in her stomach at the thought of her former partners. "      Link and Linebeck, you're gonna get the shock of your lives.    "

 Ciela stepped backwards into the fog, knowing that she won't fall off the cliff.

 "Oh and Ciela! Do try and curb that tongue of yours!" Oshus called, his form becoming obscured in the darkness.

 "Never, Old Man!" Ciela called back into the fog, before cracking up into giddy laughter.

 Ciela's laughter ringing through the air was the only remnants of the ex-fairy, as she slipped through the door between worlds.

....

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[phykios]

the marble king, part 6 [read on ao3]

It came upon him quite suddenly, and with no hint of a warning.

They had stayed two extra days in the ancient settlement at Olbia, for which Percy was extraordinarily grateful. He had spent much of the first day in something of a state of total exhaustion; after his morning ministrations, he had sat himself in front of the Empress , fully intent on making her riverworthy by lunchtime, and the next thing he knew, Annabeth had been shaking him awake, the sun frighteningly low in the sky. Thankfully, she did not comment on his fatigue, but suggested that they extend their rest for one more day, citing her own need for rest, rather than drawing attention to his.

That extra day had worked wonders for his health, however, and on the third morning, they set sail on the Danapris , with clear eyes and bright spirits, leaving the Pontus Axeinos behind entirely. The current did not prove to be much of an issue, thankfully, the waters easily obeying his commands, and they made good time traveling Northwards.

For the first time in quite a while, he was feeling rather good about his situation. Yes, he was cast adrift from his people, and yes, he was harboring the most secret of devotions towards a woman who, were it not for their circumstances, likely would have nothing to do with him--yet the sun was high, the wind was swift, and the Empress sailed smoothly. As a son of the sea, there was not much else that Percy required.

So, of course, that was when he felt it.

His friends had, once upon a time, attempted to relate to him the feeling of suddenly being beneath the waves. It had been mostly described as a feeling of shock, an abrupt disturbance to one’s sense of self, cold and terrible. For Percy, who thrived in the water, he could not sympathize, not one iota. Submerging himself in the ocean felt like coming home, like his father’s warm embrace, a rare and precious gift among children of his kind. To dread and fear it would be anathema to his very being.

He imagined this is what his friends had attempted to describe.

The cold draped over him like a cloak, fastening around his neck, blanketing his shoulders and his spine. Percy felt as though something had scratched long, spindly nails across his most sensitive nerves, jarring and grating, sending shivers up and down his skin.

He felt seasick--a virtual impossibility, but that was the only way he could make sense of it. He felt as though there was something churning in his stomach, pulling him back and forth along an invisible line, so small it could be nearly undetectable, were it not for the fact that, should this continue for much longer, he would be violently ill.

Something pulled at his heart, grasping, fingers threading their way through his ribs and wrapping their digits around his bones, holding him down, holding him back, but the current of the river could not be broken so easily, and he was yanked forward, falling to his hands and knees to the deck with a violent thud .

“Percy!”

He could not even enjoy the fact that Annabeth had rushed to his side in concern.

Her hands patted at his shoulders and his neck, propping him upright against the side of their boat. “Percy,” she said, worry warping her sweet voice, “Percy, what is it? Are you ill? Should we stop? If you require it, we can take another day to rest--”

“What was that?” he wondered, hissing as he tried to sit up straighter. His abdomen ached, the muscles seizing as though he had been put through one of Clarice’s more intense training regimens, and he nearly folded over again, pulled tight. In a flash, one of Annabeth’s hands was at his stomach, rubbing over the taut flesh in a soothing, relaxing manner. “It felt--” he gasped, “it felt like--”

“Breathe, Percy,” she murmured. “Give yourself a moment to breathe.”

Closing his eyes against the cold light of the sun and the sudden sting of tears, he breathed in as Chiron had taught him, first through the nose, then held for a count of four, then released through the mouth. Little by little, he relaxed, the muscles easing beneath her fingers. He shuddered, his breath coming in short, sharp pants, his whole frame shaking as she continued to gentle him.

In any other situation, this arrangement would have felt like something plucked straight from one of his dreams, only now he could feel no pleasure at the touch of her hand. There was only shame and sorrow in him, a groaning loss for something that he could not name swelling deep inside of his body, a coldness from within. He felt empty, as though pieces of him had suddenly vanished, stolen by the chill hand that had crept its way into his body.

But all waves must crest, and this one did as well, crashing over him in a final, agonizing swell, before ebbing back into the fog of unidentified emotion, leaving behind a void of feeling.

“There,” said Annabeth. “Just breathe.”

Slowly, he came back into himself, his consciousness spreading once again into each nerve and extremity. His breath was harsh, panting, and all at once, they both realized that Annabeth’s hands were still on him, long after they should have been. She retracted them, a faint blush dusting her nose and her cheeks.

“Are you alright?” she asked, looking just left of his ear.

“Yes,” he groaned, feeling nothing of the sort, “I am fine, I merely--ugh.” He shook himself, rather like a dog, as though he could liberate himself from the phantom feeling of fingers around his heart. “Did you feel that?”

She frowned, her lip between her teeth. “I… no. Not--not like you, clearly.”

“ Malaka .” Groping around with a hand, his fingers only met the hard wood, until Annabeth, somehow able to divine his needs, pressed her waterskin into his hand. He did not drink from it, but poured it over his head instead, and the familiar feeling helped pull him back into himself. “That was most unpleasant.”

“Should we stop for a rest?” she asked.

On unsteady legs, he pulled himself up, grasping the edge of the Empress for support, Annabeth rising with him, her hands fluttering about his person like frantic birds. “No,” he grunted. “We have tarried here too long already. I shall be fine.”

“Are you sure? I am more than happy to--”

The Empress jerked forward. “Enough,” Percy said. “We continue on. Tighten the sail.”

Casting him a doubtful look, nevertheless, she complied, and they return to their speedy, steady glide. She retreated to the bow of the boat, her gaze turned ever North, so she could not see Percy curl himself over the lip, nearly folded in half, his stomach roiling as he peered into the depths of the Danapris .

The river was freshwater--he could smell it, could sense it in the vapors coming off of the surface, settling into his very skin--its color a deep, deep blue, a careless brushstroke through the emerald green fields and forests which surrounded them, at once familiar and so utterly alien to his sensibilities. It was not empty, no, for he could sense the fish and the insects and the birds which depended on it for its very survival, but it felt… strange.

There were presences, he could tell, down at the bottom of the river, spirits of the water who watched them pass, cold and apathetic. Had he not been a wiser man, he may have mistaken them for naiads, who pledged their fealty to his father, and honored the lord of the sea, though they did not serve in his court. The naiads would give Percy the same honors, should he happen upon their homes, or require their assistance.

These spirits, he knew, would not.

We bear you no ill will, he thought, sending his request down to the spirits below, though perhaps foolishly, as he was unsure whether or not they would heed his words at all, let alone comply. Let us go in peace .

No creature made to stop them, neither magical nor mundane, and Percy and Annabeth carried on in silence.

Then, the voice.

Tarry not, thalassinos, he thought he it say, a slithering, whispering thing, sliding through his ear, winding its way down his spine. Be on your way, and do not return, lest you and the svear come to an unfortunate end.

Annabeth looked back at him, worry creasing her brow. He gingerly sat himself down in the stern of the ship, his hand still clutching the wood of the boat, for support, for something real, something he could grasp and touch and know to be solid.

Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back, breathing as quietly as he could. In the silence of his thoughts, he imagined that he could hear these strange river spirits still, chattering away to themselves in a language he did not understand, honeyed and smooth and dark all at once, words of gossip and of warning.

In its most wild spaces, it seemed that the world still possessed some magic after all. Here in these lands so strange to him, at least there was power to behold, magic to be seen and felt and known. Unlike the Aegean, the court of Poseidon. Unlike his home, now lost to the merciless march of time.

Percy tried to find comfort in that.

***

Seven rapids, Annabeth had told him. Well, by his count, they were on the fifth.

Portaging the Empress had not, as he feared, been too difficult a task to undertake. They were both quite strong for their small frames, as well as, in Percy’s case, bolstered by a quick touch of the river. When they could not tip the boat upside down, as the mast prevented them from doing so, they took their cue from their old Ottoman enemies, and cut down a few of the thinner trees in order to make a portable log road. Annabeth, using her ropes, devised a pulley system, and between the two of them, they made fair enough time.

Fair enough time, he said. In truth, it was long, grueling work. Each cataract took the better part of a day to circumnavigate, and this was just the two of them and their pitifully dwindling amount of food. Percy simply could not imagine the time and effort it had taken to move great, big Viking longships, with all their passengers and cargo, back and forth, South and North. The very thought of it was enough to cause his head to ache.

It was the fifth day, and Percy was unloading the logs which they had taken with them up the river, the Empress docked on the shore. Another clever idea from his companion; this way, they could reuse the wood they had already gathered, and they would not have to waste time cutting more trees for a similar purpose. Annabeth had gone on ahead to scout their path, as she had done each day prior, for the way was no longer so clear, and they did not want to expend their energy on pointless endeavors.

A grave error, as they would soon come to discover.

The roaring of the waters of the rapid could be heard even this far away from it, a wall of titanic sound, yet even that was shattered by the piercing scream which rang out all around him.

Percy froze, casting around his gaze. “Annabeth?” he called after a moment, but he received no response.

Then again, a scream.

It was unmistakably hers.

Dropping the log onto the dirt, he charged North in the direction of the terrible sound, his steel sword drawn and at the ready. He and Annabeth had kept their mortal weapons on their person for this very purpose, in case they should meet mortal danger upon the road, though of course, he had his magical blade in his pocket should he ever require it.

He was not sure which danger he would have preferred.

Up ahead, he could hear men’s voices, talking loudly amongst themselves, in a tongue he could not understand, but oh, he recognized that tone of voice they had, boorish, oafish, and cruel. Skidding to a sort of a stop, he ducked behind a tree, Annabeth’s soft voice suddenly in his ear, bidding him to have a look about his surroundings before he did anything rash or foolish. Heart in his throat, he peeked round the trunk, his battle-honed instincts absorbing the field in a single second: three men, armored in patchwork; no horses that he could see nor sense, which implied a lack of reinforcements to come; three swords brandished, two of a more reasonable size and one absolute brute of a blade, which looked as though it had to be wielded by two hands; Annabeth, on her knees, snarling up at the man who had her hair in his fist.

Percy saw red.

The man nearest him, the poor soul, never even saw it coming. One moment he stood, leering at his captive, then the next, he toppled over, red blooming through the weave of his unprotected back.

Fortunately for the brute who dared to lay his hands on Annabeth, Percy’s path to him was blocked by the barrel-chested man with the long, heavy sword, who leveled his weapon at Percy’s chest, sneering. He should have probably thanked his own god, whoever it might have been, that Percy was so far from the River right now. Because if they had been even a few paces closer, he’d probably already be drowning where he stood.

Ugly, pale-faced, and foul, he jerked his head towards Annabeth. “ Gunai ?” he asked, hairy brow raised, then laughed at Percy’s deepening scowl.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Annabeth move up off of her knees to a kind of crouch, subtle enough that, to the man who held her, it seemed that she was merely struggling. Once she caught his gaze, she flicked her eyes downwards, towards her feet, where he saw that she had moved the bulk of her weight to one leg, the other one outstretched.

She would trip her target, leaving the man with the long sword to Percy. A part of him, eternally fourteen and as annoyed with the daughter of Athena as he was in love with her, rankled at the thought that she did not actually need his help, but the more rational part of himself--even from that time--knew that, sometimes, she did. And in those times, they could work together towards victory, as always.

So to draw the men’s attention from her, he let out a battle cry worthy of Pan, and let loose upon the larger man with a strident clash of metal on metal. In his periphery, he saw a flash of brown, then a yelp and a muted thud. Unfortunately, he could not spare any more attention to Annabeth, who had her situation well in hand, it sounded, as the brute with the giant sword bore down on him.

Percy’s arms shook as their blades met, again and again. Clearly, this man was used to his strength and height working towards his advantage, for he loomed large over Percy, and Percy was not a small man. Step by step, he hammered at Percy’s guard, forcing him back towards the edge of the clearing. His blade skipped off of Percy’s, glancing him in the arm, leaving a line of searing fire, and Percy cried out.

For any normal man, he would have been doomed, up against such a monster. For Percy, however, who at the tender age of twelve had challenged the god of war to a duel and won, it was not so much of a challenge.

Sidestepping the man’s ever-widening slash, he darted in with his shorter sword, cutting a line through the skin of his exposed stomach. As a mighty tree, the man crashed to the ground, falling face first into the dirt.

He turned to see Annabeth similarly victorious over her own opponent, her clothes disheveled and askew, her hair thrown wildly about. Where he lay on his back, the handle of a knife stuck out from his chest, sunken deep into his body. With a growl, she spat on the man’s corpse, and she hissed, “ Patzinak! ”

“Are you alright?” He asked, eyes scanning her body for any sign of an injury.

“I am fine, phykios ,” she snapped, then paused, as she seemed to remember all that had just transpired. She looked at him with a frown, then asked, “Are you?”

“It is only a flesh wound.” He held up his arm so that she could see for herself.

“They probably have a water skin around here somewhere,” she said. “We can treat you and then clean off.”

The men may have had a camp nearby, but perhaps they carried water on them. Kneeling down, he gingerly lifted the dead man’s body from the ground, searching for any supplies he may have had.

“Oh…” he heard Annabeth then groan. Frantic, he whirled towards her, terrified he had missed some life threatening wound upon her person, tormented by visions of her pale and bleeding--but no, she remained upright, standing tall and proud, her long hair gathered in her hands as she looked at it distastefully. “ Malaka ,” she swore under her breath. “This will be an absolute nightmare to clean.”

Percy opened his mouth, ostensibly to offer his assistance, or some comfort, but… well, she was not incorrect.

What was not covered in dirt was hopelessly, perhaps irreversibly tangled up on itself, a bird’s nest of black gold, limp and ragged and lifeless. Where the dead man had grasped it in his fist, it clumped together in thick, rigid lines, matted with dark blood.

Chewing her lip, she contemplated her hair, then turned back to the bandit who still lay bleeding a few feet away. “Percy,” she said, her voice sort of far away. “You should cut my hair.”

He was so startled he dropped his sword, inhaling his own saliva, nearly choking on it. “Wha--” he stammered, “what--”

“It is more trouble than it’s worth, truly,” she said, demonstrating her point as she tried to untangle a particularly stubborn curl. “Rather than waste time trying to fix it, it should be easier for you to remove it.”

“I--” he coughed. “But, why me?” Percy winced at his tone, hoarse and broken. “Surely you could cut it off yourself.” The blood was mostly on the end bits, hanging down over her shoulder and her… well, they were easily within her grasp.

Annabeth pursed her lips, casting her eyes to the ground. “I…” she swallowed. “It will not be even if I do it myself,” she offered, weakly. “And I will not be able to reach it all.”

Stepping over the fallen trunk, she made her way over to him, her knife in her hand, wiping the blood off on her dress, a sight which Percy knew well. Annabeth had had him at knifepoint more times than he cared to remember, sometimes seriously, sometimes in a joking manner, but now she held it out to him, hilt first, grey eyes shaded and unreadable.

“I would ask this favor of you, Percy,” she said. “Please.”

For a moment, they only breathed together. The wind blew gently, the fallen leaves at their feet wrapping them in a circle of jade and emerald, entwined.

He nodded. “Very well,” he said, taking the knife from her hands. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned round, presenting her hair and her back to him.

A dangerous position for a daughter of Athena, he supposed, to turn her back on a son of Poseidon, armed with a knife.

He tucked the knife in his belt, and lay a hand on her shoulder instead, and she jumped. “I apologize,” he said. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

“It--it is fine.” He brought his hand to her hair, and her shoulders tensed even further. “Proceed as you will.”

“I will cut about here,” he said, fingering the muddy strands just below her shoulder. “Above where it is most saturated with blood.” She could still braid it then, though not as gloriously as before.

Her hair moved in his hand as she shook her head. “Further.”

This close, he could feel her shiver as he moved his hand higher. Now, it lay at the base of her neck. Her skin was warm, the little hairs there soft against his palm. “Here?” he asked.

“Further.”

His eyes widened. “You can’t mean--”

“I do,” she said. “I want it all gone.”

This was extreme, to say the least. “Are you certain? Surely it cannot be that difficult to keep so tidy.”

And, well, perhaps he was being selfish. Such beautiful hair, it gave her the air of a princess. Or an empress , his traitorous mind supplied him, a noble, golden woman, whose hair fell down in twin plaits over her body--

“Those men targeted me,” she said, cutting into his poorly-timed fantasy, “because they thought me to be your… because I am a woman.” He could not see her blush, but he could feel it, hot against his hand. “I should not like to experience that again. I can don a shirt and trousers with ease, but my hair is too obviously a symbol of my gender, and thus, I should like to part with it, for we still have a long way to go before we reach my father’s house.”

Of course. This was a precautionary measure, one that might better ensure her safety. Feeling rather ashamed of himself for his impure thoughts towards, he put all notion of her beautiful, beautiful visage aside, and resolved to grant her this favor. Her hair, her appearance, her loveliness, these things did not matter, he chastised himself furiously, in comparison to her health and security.

“Alright,” he said, so softly. “Allow me.”

He had some experience with braids. His darling sister, little Esther, had their mother’s long brown hair, thick and wavy, which puffed up in the humidity of summer, wild and untamable. In this respect, Annabeth’s hair was quite similar, though of course, the mud and blood made it somewhat stiffer. Still, he persevered, weaving strand over strand in order to more easily remove it in one fell swoop, and with each pass of his hand, he felt Annabeth relax, until she nearly dropped out of her perfect posture.

Though he had lost track of the days long ago, he knew that this was the most time he had spent with her since their childhood adventures searching for the fleece of Colchis. During that time, they had found themselves at the mercy of one of several monsters, the beguiling island of the Sirens. Annabeth, in a fit of curiosity worthy of her bloodline, wished to hear the voices of the Sirens for herself, as the great Odysseus once had. Though Percy had bound her to the mast as she had requested, he had foolishly forgotten to relieve her of her knife--the same blade which she had given him just now--and she had escaped her bonds, and would have nearly died upon the rocks, had Percy not leapt in after her, taking her with him underneath the water where the Sirens’ cries could not reach her. In that dark and sacred space, a pocket of air at the bottom of the sea, she had wept in his arms, tormented by a vision of utopia, a piece of which he had mistakenly seen for himself.

They had been so young, then. So young, their friendship so fresh, and yet she still had trusted him with that knowledge. She had trusted him again, during the siege, and now, beside the ever violent rapid, which roared in the distance, churning angrily, yet unable to penetrate the quiet which surrounded them now.

Her plait finished, he ran a hand down the length of it, long and beautiful, and said a silent farewell. “I will cut it now,” he told her, and he felt her nod.

Hesitating for a single heartbeat, he brought the flat of the blade to her ear, and she flinched.

Cutting her hair was not as simple a task as he had imagined it to be. Even the cleaner sections were thick, the knife blade simply not sharp enough to slice through them so easily. It took a little bit of work in the arm, the cut on his bicep aching a bit as he sawed through her locks. There was no sound now, save for their mingled breaths, and the near-silent shick of the knife as it met resistance.

Before either of them had realized it, Percy had reached the other side. Her braid hung on by a handful of threads. “Nearly there,” he said. She nodded, ever so faintly.

And like that, it was gone. With a final cut, he severed the last few strands, and the thing came off in its entirety, that golden rope so heavy in his hand. “There,” he said, sorrowful in a manner he could not quite name. “It is finished.”

She lifted a hand to her head, running her fingers through the newly shorn locks. “It feels so light,” she wondered at it, her fingertips dancing around the base of her skull, searching for something long gone. “As though the burden of the sky has been lifted from my shoulders once more.”

He huffed a laugh. “Surely it could not have been that irritating,” he said. It had been too beautiful for it to be such trouble for her. And she had kept it long the entire time he’d known her.

Then she turned.

Oh, no , he thought.

“Well?” she asked, suddenly quite shy. Her hand still rested on top of her head, her eyes full of trepidation. “Am I sufficiently boyish?”

“You…” he licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. “You…”

If he had thought she was beautiful before with her gorgeous hair, he was utterly unprepared for how adorable she was without it.

Her curls now fell just beneath her eyes, the gold highlighting the silver. Her eyes, seemingly larger than they used to be, now gazed at him free of impediment, from a face entirely unobstructed and free. Without the curtain of her hair, she did seem to stand straighter, the light catching on her high cheekbones and the sweet slope of her nose.

It took a moment to realize that he was staring. “Well,” he said, flushing, “you look… um…”

Before his passing, Carlo had attempted to instruct him in the ways of wooing women. Now that he recalled it, actually, the man did seem to put a strange emphasis on speaking to children of Athena. In any case, one of his chief lessons was thus, that there was a fine line to tread when speaking to a woman about her beauty. One could neither flatter too much nor too little, for both were false claims, and women preferred it when men spoke plainly.

But how could he tell her that she shone even more brightly in his eyes now than she ever had before? How could he be honest with her when her stated goal was to shun feminine beauty, and pass undetected beneath the cruel man’s gaze?

“I am… not certain you could pass as a man,” he said, carefully, “though, perhaps, you could be seen as a particularly delicate one.”

Were she a boy, he wished to say, then she would be the loveliest boy that Percy had seen in his entire life, even more beautiful than Adonis, Narcissus, or Ganymede. He thought back to two of the mortal men whom he had greatly admired, Lukas and Iason, both handsome blond men, and surmised, with a slight air of hysteria, that Annabeth made for an even more handsome man than either of them.

At that, she scowled. “It will have to do,” she growled, stalking back over to the dead man. “Go and gather what is left of our supplies.”

Immediately, he protested. “And leave you here? There could be more bandits around.”

She glared at him, so fierce and full of fury that he physically retreated. “I will be taking this man’s shirt,” she snapped, “and I would prefer to do so without any company.”

Oh. “Ah--of course,” he said, backing up even further and tripping over a dead branch. “I will… leave you to it.” Then, red-faced, he turned on his heel, and ran back to the Empress.

[bonebreakjack]

Red Boy Shadow World        Chapter:Daisy

Judai hibiki is starting his first year at Duel Academy, while he knew he wasn't the most normal person in the world, this school is whole other league of weirdness! Judai with his friends are gonna have to battle against teachers, fellow students, and even people who really shouldn't be on school property but here they are nonetheless.

Wait they have to fight Shadow duelists, vengeful duel monsters, an the forces of evil on top of that?!?!?! Sheesh these kids wont be able to catch a break! This can also be red on fanfiction and AO3 under the same names!

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“Judai!”

A never ending void of bright soft colors surround him once more, is this what it felt like to be in a kaleidoscope? His body light, like swimming in zero gravity; a weightless feeling that made him feel as if he was nothing but dust in the air. He was literally at the mercy of the forces around him.

It was amazing!

 He kicked his foot out and let out a huff of joy as he was sent spinning in place.  Moving his body as if he was swimming in a pool, he careened across the space. This would be more fun if he had someone with hi- a pair of shadowed wings sailed passed him in a series of quick sharp motions. His eyes trying to keep up with the wings, they never strayed far from him but not getting close to him either, as if teasing him to try and catch them. 

“Oi Judai!”

A wide smile spread across his face as he kicked off after the shadowy wings laughing as they kept putting themselves in his reach. Just close enough for him to touch, and then pulling away at the last second. A long game of tag that seemed to have no end in sight, a distorted warm laughter filling his ears making his heart feel full and feather light.

“Judai it’s time to wake up!”

And then darkness.

Judai hit the ground hard, coughing as sand and dust filled his lungs. He rubbed at his eyes to get the tiny grains of particles irritating them out. He kept quickly turning his head looking for the wings from earlier hoping for some help.  But there was no light here to help him, none at all―it smelled musty and felt cold like being in a haunted house during the school festivals. The weightlessness  gone making his body feels heavy instead as he walked across rough stone and sand. 

Chills shook his body and fear choked his voice, unable to call out for the wings. He continued walking in hopes he either finds them or a way out of here. It felt suffocating being here, a disgusting feeling of being watched quickening his pace but the area felt endless. How long was he gonna be here in the dark? Is anyone coming to get him? No, No one is coming to get him, there is no one left to find him anymore. He’s trapped, trapped, trapped, and has been trapped for so long.

Damn those priests, damn the Pharaoh! For taking his home, for taking his body, for taking his heart! Damn the feathered wings which kept him from being whole!

LET ME OUT!!!! I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE IN THIS DARKNESS ANYMORE.

Judai collapse as feelings of hatred, and malice filled him; making him ill from how it seemed to oozed into him slowly like slow running lava. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream!

He wanted to hurt somebody…..He wanted to be WHOLE.

 A horrid scream of pain rang in his head as a blinding light burned itself into his vision.

“JUDAI WE’RE GONNA BE LATE!”

A scream trapped in his throat as he ungracefully fell out of bed. His face planting into the ground, his brain rebooting from the sensation of smooth hardwood floor. He bumped straight into his desk and his blaring alarm clock hit him on the way down from the initial hit. Well if he wasn’t already awake. 

The nausea that had filled him seem to vanish, what was that strange dream? He never felt like that before.  So trapped, so hurt, so angry. He curled the blanket around him tighter hoping it could ward away the chills of fear that still seem to have a hold on him. A soft touch like wings seem to shake his hair and caress his cheek and he leaned into it, thankful for the distraction. Glimpsing at concerned orange and teal as well as gold, his body finally started to relax.

Wanting a distraction he took his surprisingly still ringing alarm into his hand, confused as to WHY, it was ringing. 7:30? Why the heck would he set his alarm so early? He graduated….already…..

…….

“SHIT”

“Judai get up we’re late! We’re super late for the airport! Why did we set the clocks this late!?!? FUCK”

Judai ran out of the bedroom like dragons were nipping at his heels, his clothes and luggage in hand. Chucking the suitcase and duffel bag over the staircase to land on the couch, he sprinted to the bathroom to get ready. A blur of dark red and black passed him out of said bathroom ruffling his hair, muttering dark curses and slamming into their own room. 

Frantically he pulled off his pajamas and into his clothes he was going to wear on the plane. His toothbrush nearly choking him as he forgot to take it out as he was changing.  A duo of laughter reached his ears but he ignored them in favor of rinsing out his mouth.  

He practically flew downstairs and caught the bread aimed at him from his frantic elder sister. Her appearance a little frazzled from the stress of having to plan how they were gonna make it to their flight with their very late wake up call. It would have been comical, if he also wasn’t in the same boat! Adjusting his backpack and checking one last time to see his decks are secured, he hopped over to her putting on his socks and trying not to choke on his breakfast.

“Mihori wha tha heck arrr wey goin cu do?!*GULP* Are we even gonna make it?” Quickly checking over to see if all their suitcases were accounted for. Judai decided to make sure everything in the house was ready for their departure. He doesn’t know how long it will be before he can come back home with his sisters schedule and work at the campus. 

“*Gulp* I think so if we break like every speeding law to get there, problem is Miho isn’t here yet and is. Not. Answering. Her. Phone!!” Gritting her teeth in frustration  she pulled on her long black locks of hair as if the slight pain would give her a solution. She shoved another piece of bread in her mouth huffing. Judai bit his lip as she saw her cheeks puff like a chipmunk from the way she kept stuffing her mouth. Unable to help himself he started laughing, her confused expression only making it worse. He hands her water to ensure she doesn’t choke, she drained it in relief. Midori’s lips quirked some of the frustration slipping out knowing she must be a sight. 

It was so normal, he felt like they were getting better at that as of late. Since Koyo’s not- shaking his hair and biting his lip pretending he was just making fun of Midori, he didn’t want her to see his face knowing the good mood will be ruined.

Judai wished he didn’t feel the lack of presence of a third person who should be there too.

The doorbell rang through the house causing them to freeze their necks nearly snapping as their faces swivel to the door, a young woman with periwinkle hair and a small carefree smile gracing her face walked through the door humming. 

“Good morning Little Judai, Mi-chan!” 

“MIHO!” ripped out of Midori’s mouth as she launched herself at her friend nearly running Judai over in her haste to either hug or murder the other woman.

“Miho is happy to see you both ready! Miho has drinks and snacks for you to take on your trip!” The casual nonchalant way she was talking to them only made their previous stress returned. This was not the time to chit-chat, didn’t she know the time?!? Judai stopped himself short though as he and Midori looked outside the door that was still open to see the barely peeking light of dawn hitting the street. Miho, bless her, finally took note of their confused tired faces and took pity on them.

“OH that is right! Miho had forgotten to tell you but Miho didn’t want to deal with you you both waking up late again. That really is a terrible habit, Miho recommends breaking it. So she set your clocks back two hours so we could leave on time~” Clasping her hands together in apology she smiled brightly at them as Judai felt himself slide to the floor, at the corner of his eyes Midori ended on her knees as she stared at her friend the look on her face clearly contemplating murder as the cheery woman’s explanation finally hit them.

They stressed for nothing. They were actually on time. Will make their plane trip with snacks too boot, all it did was cost them some sleep and maybe a few years shaved off their lives.

“Pfffttt!”

Judai couldn’t help it! He ended up falling backwards he was laughing so hard; his sister following once the relief finally took hold of her. Miho started to laugh too but he got the feeling she didn’t know why they were laughing, that was fine. Miho got them up and hurried them into the car, repeating that they need to get a move on. 

Pushing the last case into the car he turned back to his house, the one he’s nearly been in his whole life and couldn’t help but feel a little sad. It’s gonna be a long while before he can come home….a long while before he gets to visit his brother too. Feeling phantom hands on his shoulders and a slow growing chorus of voices encouraging him, he smiles and enters the car ready to take the next step in his life.

And then come back home to show how much he’s grown as a duelist to Koyo.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This story is something I've been thinking of for a while and is mostly fueled by me wanting more focus on the friendship and bonds all these kids share, as well as the various side and minor characters we see in cannon(I fuckin love em okay they're all good kids) as well as connect various plots together and put some head cannons in X3. I appreciate feedback on how to improve its been a while since I wrote and I'm a bit rusty! This series is also a mash up of both the manga and the anime's worlds/plots!Also nearly every character here is from either the manga or animes, I try to avoid OC's as much as I can as I am not confident enough to incorporate them as more than background characters yet.I don't own anything! I just like playing with these worlds~

[kondo-hijikata]

Pairings: Established Kondo/Hijikata Rating: T Summary: Snow might melt, but promises are forever. [AO3] This is pure and utter fluff.

for @hidetheremote

.*Gone, the Precious Snow*.

Edo 1858

With his slender hand caught in the grasp of a much larger one, Hijikata’s panting breaths appeared in visible blotches as he trailed the pace of Kondo’s hurried footsteps leading him through steadily falling snow. Their trip home from Hino had started with drab scenery washed over in cool gray to match the ambiance—nature’s lifeless colors setting the perfect backdrop to overhead bare branches that painted jagged black lines across an ominous slate sky.

At some point however, these bleak surroundings began a transformation. One wayward snowflake from above turned to several, and those several to many, quickly sweeping ivory blankets over dirt paths that had shoes ill-equipped for such weather crunching and leaving trails soon to disappear. The more the accumulation, the faster their pace became, until it was no longer Hijikata walking at Kondo’s side, but barely keeping up behind as he was now.

Why the rush? Hijikata hadn’t needed to ask; he’d known all too well Kondo’s penchant for putting the comfort of those he harbored affection for above his own—which meant such haste, and the tightness of his grip, were entirely with Hijikata’s aversion to cold weather in mind.

Therefore, as everything whited out around them and the entire universe hushed to only the whisper of soft huffs escaping chapped lips, Hijikata found it all too easy for Kondo to once again become the prime focal point of his thoughts and attentions; he was a much fonder fixation than the chill, by all means, and being alone with him like this while traveling was as exciting as it was pleasing.

—even if the air was brisk and needling, uncomfortable and loathsome: all of which it certainly was. But that Kondo was there with Hijikata, that he could feel the clutch of his hand, made everything bearable.

Ever the mother hen Hijikata’s sister Nobu was, she’d lectured them both upon arriving to pay their new year visit; her grousing (for better or worse) had been more about their decidedly under-prepared state of dress for a trek home through the impending storm than how long Hijikata had let his hair grow since he’d moved out.

Once Kondo’s profuse apologies had fallen over immense eye-rolling at his side, they’d spent the rest of the afternoon and night in enjoyable Sato-Hijikata family company. The departure from Nobu’s porch came early this morning with hopes of keeping ahead of the weather to no avail, and despite bundling themselves in ample layers at her insistence, no hats meant locks of hair and broad shoulders were now prime locations for falling snow to find temporary solace on.

…and not to mention fingers, too, which suddenly entwined tighter when Hijikata shifted position of his palm against Kondo’s. He gently pulled back while his steps slowed to a halt.

“Ka—Kat-chan, wait.” The words were conspicuous—brought to life by riding softly out on the blossoms of exhalations that dissipated just as soon as they’d appeared.

There was no hesitation or protest in Kondo’s next movements, as large feet stopped their forward haul and pivoted to show naked concern in his honeyed eyes; they, along with the chill dusting blush about his cheeks, nose, and the tips of his ears inspired a different warmth to proliferate within Hijikata’s chest. “You all right?”

Dropping his chin with a solitary nod, Hijikata answered, “Mm.” There was a quick pause to catch his breath. “You didn’t notice though, did you?” The inward pull of Kondo’s brows inspired a twitch at Hijikata’s lips and he cocked his head to the right. “You oughta stop worrying about other people and look around every now and then, y’know.”

Blinking, Kondo lifted his face to the direction he’d been instructed—just to have both his expression and gaze soften with pleasant surprise. “Oh, the lake!”

Though its water had already long frozen over this winter, the falling snow gave the ice a silver sheen that would undoubtedly sparkle like glitter when the high noon sun could show itself again. For now, however, such glamor was fated to stay concealed, but that hadn’t meant there was no beauty to appreciate.

Hijikata assumed point now, taking Kondo (who’d begun to weakly object, as he had made certain promises to Nobu) over to the sharpened edge of a shore ever so soft in the summertime—and in doing so, he led them both back to the beginning of…everything.

Of spoken silly dreams and tender smiles and conversations that could last for hours… Of promises and confessions and nonsense words, of covertly intertwining fingers and drawing closer and the thrill of being so certain but also uncertain yet... Of the subsequent first kiss to end all first kisses and the first chapter of a story that would surely never end.

And here once more they stood on that same cusp, hand-in-hand with nothing in the world audible except for the dull pounding of a metronome in Hijikata’s ears: the sound of Kondo’s heartbeat.

Or maybe it was his own. Or maybe it didn’t even matter because it was the same difference at this point.

They observed the scenery for a short while, until Kondo looked over and his spine went stiff. “Toshi, your hair is all wet!” His fingers slipped away from Hijikata’s and he reached for his scarf, making quick work of undoing the knot and pulling it free. "We really should—”

“I wanna see this place at every time of the year with you.” The interjection came without Hijikata turning to him; he kept his gaze trained on the ice, feeling his features soften in the slightest and a burn hinting over his cheeks at such a direct statement. “...So I’ll never forget it,” Hijikata added softly.

At his side he heard Kondo huff. “Hey...” And after a few moments, a gentle push to his upper arm had Hijikata pivoting, still without making eye contact; maybe for the first time in his life, he found himself grateful for winter nipping at his cheeks to disguise the blush he felt. However, when the fabric of the scarf whooshed up and settled over his head, Hijikata’s chin quickly raised and his attention shot to the side before snapping back to Kondo, tying it in place.

“Eh?! You’ll be cold if—!” It was all Hijikata had managed against an unexpected onslaught of pure affection aimed his way. That gentle gaze was on him with the look Kondo reserved for him, alone—that soft smile, the half-lidded eyes, the hint of a nod to reassure him everything was okay: all the right things to make a man weak in the knees, and oh, did it.

Therefore, when Kondo reached forward, it was simple to justify how easily Hijikata stepped up to accept that embrace…to feel strong arms envelop him and hold him close.

“Toshi.” The rich baritone of Kondo’s voice rumbled from deep within his chest, despite how quietly his words came forth. “Let’s come back here next month, then.” He hugged a little tighter. “And the next.”

“Aa,” Hijikata murmured into a padded shoulder. His own rolled up slightly while nuzzling at Kondo’s coat, and he indulged himself in appreciating this closeness for several more moments before finally tilting his head back. Kondo followed suit, withdrawing only far enough so their gazes could meet and when they did, Hijikata’s mouth eased into a smile. “Snowing or not, ne.”

Kondo exhaled out of his nose and the following grin came with a tiny flash of teeth. “Snowing or not, Toshi-san.”

His features slackened with earnest then and Kondo leaned in slowly, until the space between trembling lips became none—while dainty veils of white continued a downward drift and the whole universe went monochrome. But Hijikata was oblivious to that, and anything else for that matter, for the only things of significance now were the taste of Kondo’s kiss and his all-encompassing warmth which seemed to say, “I’m here and I’m never leaving.”

~

Kyoto 1866

As the shoji turned an iridescent glow from the late morning sun, a fine brush swept tendrils of ink over parchment. Once it finished flitting to the pattern of his latest work, Hijikata lifted his hand to keep unsightly blotches from ruining the lettering and set the utensil aside.

He crossed his arms and sat back on his feet, a sudden intimation of contentment easing the harsh lines of his face while he reread the haiku beneath his breath.

Gone, the precious snow No longer to be found in the yard with the pine

While he admired the words, Hijikata could almost feel phantom arms wrapping around him, could nearly perceive soft breaths feathering along his sensitive skin and asking if he was proud of what he wrote this time.

His lashes fell and he nodded with self-satisfaction. “That was pretty good.”

The moment didn’t last though, with such thoughts going interrupted by the sound of heavy feet hitting the porch outside; at them, Hijikata quickly shut his poetry book and pivoted on his knees.

“Toshi!” Kondo’s voice rang out with excitement, barely muted by the door that revealed his shadow stuttering to a halt. “Toshi, you there?”

“Aa, c’mon in.”

Shoji went sailing along the tracks to reveal the beaming face of the one man Hijikata had promised his life to many, many years ago. Kondo grinned so widely that his eyes closed, and he lifted the wrapped package dangling from his right hand.

“Hey, I bought you somethin’ nice!”

Hijikata’s lips remained pressed together and he stared without answering for a short time, the blank look he wore contrasting how his pulse picked up at the sight of pure sunlight radiating into the room.

Indeed. Snow would melt, and the seasons would shift, and the world would continue to alter and blend its colors forever. Hijikata had been sure to lock the memories of such transient things within the depths of his heart so he would never forget: the days with stolen kisses and the entwining of fingers…the weight of Kondo’s hand on that snowy morning and the sensation of having him close and the feeling of realizing this was it.

But some things…

Kondo’s eyes opened and he raised the dango a little higher. “Mm?”

…some things would never change at all.

At last, Hijikata allowed a smile to bloom across his face, as he relaxed on his zabuton¹ and nodded Kondo inside. “Shut the door again, would you?”

¹ zabuton: A sitting cushion

Thank you for reading! This is a ridiculously late gift for hidetheremote. I’m so sorry it took forever and ever, but I hope you enjoyed this. <333 Thank you for being an amazing friend. ^_^

[musings-ofa-madman]

His skeletons

A strong tailwind tugged at his shirt and mussed his hair, scattering it over his face. The world was an endless sea of blue, from the ocean to the sky and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Yet even as the waves lapped gently against the hull and the gulls cried in the skies, a faint black smudge marked the distant horizon like a scar. A lingering smell of oil permeated the air as small pools of the black gold polluted the otherwise pristine water. It was almost perfect.

“Days like this I don’t regret coming out here.” The soft whispers broke the silence as Theo looked towards the denounced noble. He was a man nearing the end of his prime, snow white locks tied back in a massive ponytail with a slightly gaunt face. Yet his eyes held the youth that Theo enjoyed and the wisdom that he would never know. Thaladrian the noble no more.

A sigh escaped him then, “nah it’s not too bad.” Theo replied, his hands gripping the wood railing as he leaned over the side, watching as their galleon sliced through the water. His thoughts turned to all the chaotic days he endured. The memories of death still lingered even out here where everything was so… so perfect. He knew that the peace never lasted long. There was always a fight to be fought or a life to be taken. That never changed, the only thing that changed was who and why.

A sudden flurry of commands washed over the deck as the sailors began to stir. Barrels of black powder were brought to the top deck as small shot was laid out near the rail guns. Below deck was even more chaotic as they brought cannonballs out from the lower hull along with larger casks of gunpowder. Several glaive throwers were also being prepped, each armed with specially designed blades for their task ahead.

“I guess it’s time.” Thaladrian grabbed Theo by the shoulder, squeezing with his hands just as a contingent of sailors rose from the depths of the ship, each dressed to mimic that of a Thalassian sailor. The duo brushed past the others as they went to prepare, strapping themselves into their gear. Boiled leather, reinforced with thin steel plates was Theo’s choice of armor while the former noble slipping into a mail hauberk, forsaking the thick plates he kept in storage.

The roar of engines overcame all the clamor from above as they sailed between two goblin juggernauts. Theo waited, his eyes watering from the smoke that slowly filtered in through the portholes. He could see the massive iron framed beasts that chugged slowly beside them. He stared down the barrels of the cannons and felt a slight sweat start to break upon his forehead. It was one thing to look down a barrel at someone else, completely different when you were on the business end of it.

The cannons fired simultaneously, the deafening explosions causing Theo to stagger as he reached for the support beams. As several explosions followed Theo ducked his head, dropping down to the floor as he half expected to be blasted to bits by an errant cannonball. Yet their ship remained unharmed. Instead, as Theo looked out of the porthole, he saw large gaping holes within the hulls of the ships. The glaives having punched through the armor before detonating, breaching their hull and igniting fires within.

The secondary explosions were the signal, and as they disabled the ships, the crew of the Black Suns spilled out of the hull and onto the main deck, dropping gangplanks and rushing on board the other ships as they engaged the goblin crews in deadly hand to hand combat.

Yet as the mass of their numbers left the ship; Theo, Thaladrian and a handful stayed. Their mission wasn’t the escorts, they were going after the prize itself.

As the gangplanks were pulled back onto the ship, they set sail once more, the sails dropping as they sought after the pleasure barge that had been trying to get away. It didn’t take long, the large wooden ship meant for a more leisurely speed, and as they sailed beside it he could see they were ill-prepared for any fight. The large ship appeared to be bloated with no visible gun ports in the hull. In fact there were no weapons in sight save for the few bruisers who stood on the main deck.

“Don’t fire the cannons.” The captain yelled, waving people away from the rail mounted guns. “We want that ship whole. She be our prize.”

The pirate dialect was enough to make Theo roll his eyes. Although it wasn’t as bad as it could be, it was still annoying having to put the words in their correct order within his mind. Instead he ignored the captain, paying attention of the slow moving pleasure barge that was quickly pulling up beside them.

“Ready.” Thaladrian called out, “ready… Grappling hooks! Drop the gang planks and take that ship!”

The grappling hook left Theo’s hand, wrapping around the top deck railing before locking itself in place. Theo gave on tug before jumping over the edge, swinging down between the ships before slamming his shoulder into the side of the hull.

Hand over hand, he pulled himself up, grabbing the railing as he vaulted onto the main deck. A goblin bruiser rushed to meet him, his heavy armor clanking as he raised his nasty looking mace. Yet as he drew closer, yelling a wordless cry, the goblin’s face went from pure rage to that of surprise as Theo’s pistol centered on his face, the hammer falling as the black powder ignited. The iron ball slapped against the goblin’s forehead, splattering blood and brains all across the deck behind him.

“One down.” Theo called out, pulling his swords free as he ran into the fray. He joined Thaladrian as he dueled two goblins and quickly dispatched them from behind before turning to deflect an errant attack; stabbing his sword through the chest of a stumbling goblin.

“Too easy.” Theo laughed as he stepped back, a flanged mace catching on his shirt, nicking his skin. He brought his sword up to deflect another swipe, but it was torn from his grip as the blade caught a groove. He continued with his motion, never missing a beat as he pulled a dagger from his belt, stepping in towards the goblins as he lashed out, the edge cutting across his throat before the mace could be raised again.

Dropping his other sword, Theo used his daggers, moving like a phantom as he lashed out, helping his mates and cutting down the green filth.. Always slashing, never stabbing. It didn’t take long before the ship was theirs, the last defenders killed and their bodies tossed over the side.

“Empty out the hold! Find the prince.” The captain yelled, pointing to the large painted door that led deeper into the ship.

The wooden door burst open as Thaladrian delivered a solid kick to it. They stormed down the stairs and entered the main hold. The lavishness of it was disgusting, even for Sin’dorei standards. Overly stuffed couches and chairs littered the narrow hull as stacks of gold and other treasures were everywhere. A group of concubines, Sin’dorei, humans, kaldorei and Quel’dorei alike were in the back, hunched down as they visibly shook with terror. Yet the loudest noise did even come from them.

A loud mewling sound came from behind the mass of women. A short and fat goblin, dressed in rich silks with more gold on him than a gilded statue, cowered, his hands covering his face as he cried. He pleaded for his life, offering gold and riches, even his concubines. While the offers were tempting none of them were biting. Instead Thaladrian waded through the concubines and picked the goblin up by the nape of his neck, grunting under the massive weight for such a small creature. “The captain wants to see you.” He growled before looking to the rest. “Take the concubines up to the main deck and start unloading the treasure.”

By the time the hold was emptied of anything worth value, the crews had returned from the juggernauts with their own prizes. A quick debate was unfurling on the ship between the captain and his first and second mates. Judging from their stares and hand gestures, Theo surmised that they were talking about the row of prisoners; ten concubines and the goblin as they kneeled on the deck, their hands lashed together in rope.

The dull thud of a foot slamming onto the deck seemed to end the debate with the captain turning to Theo and Thaladrian, the last two on the deck of the pleasure barge.

“Run it red.”

All the noises of the ocean, the commotion of the crews and the whimpering of the prisoners seemed to fade to nothing. Everything was silent save for the beating of his heart in his ears. ‘Run it red.’ The words replayed in his mind and as he looked over to Thaladrian, he saw the same turmoil brewing in his eyes.

“What are you waiting for?!” The captain growled.

“Theo…” The voice came almost as a surprise to him. It was soft, like a whisper and it betrayed the tough exterior that often accompanied the denounced noble. “I can’t…” His eyes were pleading. He was a man of convictions. Rules, although flexible, were important to the man. Yet Theo wasn’t bound by the same code of honor. He knew no honor save what kept him alive. But even he couldn’t wrap his mind around what needed to be done.

‘Don’t think, do.’ He told himself as he pulled his swords free. The concubines cried, doing their best to hold each other while the goblin openly protested, whining the loudest. He was the first to die and the easiest. The world blacked out after the goblin fell, choking on his own blood. He could hear the screams. The pleading in many languages as pained cries filled the air, yet he saw nothing. Not until the end.

The bodies were in a row, laying in their own blood as their mouths were agape in horror and their eyes were locked on the sky. Blood dripped from the tips of his swords and gore coated his arms. He could see the wounds he inflicted, the bellies cut open and the throats slit. A head lolled to the side, barely holding on by the fibers of her flesh. A severed arm lay at the feet of another and it was all he could take.

Theo stumbled to the railing and retched. His knees were weak and his mind was swimming. A hand rested upon his shoulder and a light squeeze followed.

“Theo?” A voice called to him.

“Theo?” It asked again as the hand squeezed a little harder. Before Theo knew a knife was in his hands and he spun around, the dagger intrinsically finding the neck that belonged to the hand. It wasn’t until he saw the face that he realized he was on the docks at the Serpentine’s compound. The poor dockworker had the look of pure panic as the knife pressed against the skin of his throat. He tried to speak but only sputtered incoherently.

“Oh uhm…” Theo pulled the dagger away, his eyes searching the rest of the pier in the fading light to see if anyone else saw him. “I am sorry…” He reached for a small pouch at his hip, his fingers digging at the few coins he had on him, partly to pay for his silence and partly out of guilt, yet once the dagger was safely away from the worker’s throat, he bolted.

With a groan he turned and slid down against the base of a wooden beam. He wanted a drink, something to clear his mind yet all his energy had been sapped from him.

(Sorry for grainy gifs!)

(@theserpentinekiss​ @verwandeln-characterblog @ayamicross)

[thetoolswetook]

14/5/19

Closed curtains Cold clothes and Old routines I’ve been dancing in your traffic God And The Machine The greatest mistake of my life Was saying goodbye To you I’m cheating on myself with you I’ll be fine Acting like I’m fine All the fucking time I hate myself for thinking the things I never say But ——— it never feels the same Just paint those scars and forget it ever happened If only to make my ghost a martyr A Box Full I spent all my life Learning my lines Only to find I’m stuck with stage fright Heights of heaven / Depths of hell I had a dream that was a different life, Everything else was different But you and I the same Overthinking Day drinking Drugs Or Love Are you going to walk slow for the whole of your life? Burned to death looking for your shade I’ve been Lying Down and Crying All alone Salt drips down my ear lobe How is it fair That I must travel this life Without your infinite light And guidance? If I die to the road I just want you to know I choked on what I loved That’s more than enough

You make me tremble like a loaded gun You make me shiver in the summer sun 

Heaven, honey, home 

I’m so scared of dying With so much left unsaid

Learning how to fly Try to touch the Sky Always felt so fine Until you got blinded by the light

Icarus 

You walked in and damned me Because now I can’t live without you Now I’m just roadkill on your stretch to something better 

You give me forever And it scares me to death  ---- Passive passion

I’m not who you want

I’m not who you need

Exhausted, by it all

Being on this earth made your soul fragile - I hope you made it out

Bone Music

Lilly white

And if I have to break my heart, to share it with you, I will

When you cross my mind, I beam with pride

Her/Hurt

I bite a chunk of skin off my bottom lip,

For every word I never said, but wished I did

I only often speak about death,

Because I love my family and my friends,

And I’m scared of their lives coming to an end.

So I guess it’s just my way of not being able to forget.

A pedestal to you is a gallows to I.

You’ve given up on yourself

Teach me how to love,

Or fill me up,

With lots of drugs,

Till I am stuffed.

Hopefully that will be enough.

Every time I sing you to sleep,

My troubles subtlely dilate.

You think it’s beautiful, more or less,

But between the cracks in my voice, I’m crying for help.

Though I’m exhausted, I try not to sleep through the days,

Because I hate the thought of you seeing the look on my face, when I’m dreaming of a better place,

And painfully, miserably, I must awake.

I have spent years of my life, feeling guilty,

For being ill behind this white picket fence

But everybody bleeds differently, I’ll use that as my defence.

Whether a disease is noticeably killing you on the outside,

Or it’s just a minor fault of the chemicals inside your mind.

That’s fine. The degree of your suffering is something I cannot define. Still, I hope you’ll heal in time.

I find it hard to shoulder burdens far less heavy than some, and sit awake at night telling them “It’s okay to be numb”, when maybe in your shoes I would simply just crumble - But in the eyes of our issues it’s so important to stay humble.

No matter who you are - Where you are or what you do. We’re similarly different... That much is true.

Our key similarity also holds us apart: The dull numb ache of our beating hearts.

So, now you know; You’re never alone. And in that knowledge, I hope you find hope.

Acid test

Like Home

Hide your ghost in my shadow

Mourning Song

You were there when I was alone, I just need to let you know, every word that I had said I had truly meant. I hope you know

And now I’m as alone, as I’ve always felt

If I could look into your eyes for the rest of my life, or walk the whole entire world with your hand in mine, I would never be ready die.

How I wish I was someone else. Someone far away. -

------

Endure the throes of yesterday

Just to maintain the throne you own today

How am I to know what I have thrown away?

A victory lap, or a funeral parade?

When I fell from the apex of it all

I promised myself

Now I’m sailing on the seas that I used to drown in

Oh what a burden it is 

To be blessed with a beating heart

And bludgeoned with a purpose

You are the middle of the compass

But I have to fade away

To find myself again another day

Lured like a sailor to a siren

Man Of Sorrows

Arma Christi

I’ve been watching the binding crack

And the veins pop out your neck

Open the door to find there’s nothing left

Filthy as lard - Guilty as charged

Rain sodden, down trodden - so so sick of the rain

So so sick of the rain

On my parade

Strength in solitude

Wherever you go when you are dead,

I hope it’s somewhere that we can meet again

Tears Of A Clown

How can I find you help

When I can’t even find myself?

A little white cross

A little blue dot  

I’ve started stepping on the cracks

What happens when we fall out of love?

I really want to live

To see the look on your face

When it all falls in place

Nuclear Family

B U T T E R F L I E S

Airborne Pheromones

Sweetheart Grip

God’s Eye

As it’s reflection bounces off your face

The end of the world’s such a pretty place

-----------

Let me live forever with you

Lonely Lamb

Married to the way

You bury every day

Ophelia

It pumps in my rib cage

Cold metal

Pressed against my temple

Will I ever find peace

With myself

And the pieces of myself

That I left

Behind

All the happy fat people

Are watching me starve

Our Greatest Glory

We are defined not by how we fall, and who pushes us, but the way we wipe the dirt from our knees and plant the earth back beneath our feet

I’ll never let you know

But it Helped Me Out Of A Hole

I’m ashamed to feel it, but not to talk about it

The last time was cathartic, my friend. I only came back here to give my life meaning again

Let this be my Funeral Portrait (hidden mother)

An empty stomach

A plethora of food

A mouth wide open

No teeth to chew.

We all make mistakes - Don’t let your mistakes make you.

Every laborious lesson learned, I bare to you.

My friend is ill. Where do I begin?

As much as I love to help, I’m sorry that I have to.

Running from my life

For my life

Spite-filled and bitter

Curse me with your

Curse me with your

Curse me with your

Kiss

We cherished what the sun said

Perished with the sun set

Greek Tragedy

The Inbetween

Colour-Starved

Light of my life - How I miss you so

Melatonin

In between dreams

I Am An Island

I lie in bed at night

And dream of a better life

With my eyes wide open

Every magpie

Must take flight

Nothing left to live for

Nothing left to lose

What’s the time in Texas?

I wrote you this message

I know it’s hard to find the time at the end of every day,

Half the world away

Dear Calamity

When I grow up I want to be something to someone

Making peace with my devils

When I breathe my life down the back of your neck,

What happens next?

No Joy

Morfydd

Two nuns in love

Cognitive Dissonance

Phantom Limb

I sometimes wonder - Am I in your nightmares, or do I just wake you from them?

What once was a burden, is now a blessing

Because forgiving

Is not forgetting

The love that we once willed

The love that we watched wilt

-----

It’s always been a long plight for happiness, or fulfilment. Not sure which one. You have a long time on this earth and the best way is to take things step by step. Assess your surroundings, and move on to the next healthy step. Over time, you soon learn that the constant yearning for more is both healthy and frightening. Of course, it sees you often climbing above those around you, but when do you discover the ladder comes to an end? When the last step suddenly becomes a leap of faith?

So, do we sit on the ground, smug with the knowledge that we’re never going to fall? The gluttony of comfortable complacency? Or is that adrenaline rush we feel as we climb to the top maybe worth the time we spend in limbo, falling back down? The question really is, do we feel the risk of failure is worth the sense of fulfilment? And once you’ve turned that corner, you face the really ugly problem at hand.

Fulfilment is NOT happiness. Your ivory tower is hollow. Your money and your attention can buy you nothing. Was the journey even worth it? Do we climb this ladder through the clouds to see a wasteland? Do we then yearn for that cold, hard ground we once lay upon?

There are more questions you must ask yourself. Would I have spent a lifetime of comfort sat wondering what could have been? And whether this self-sabotage in the name of overthinking was worth it? Or will I spend a lifetime of regret, free-falling from a great height with remorse in my heart, but proud callouses on my hands? And the final question you must ask is - In the long run - Which poisonous decision will be less painful?

-----

It found me when I was young

It sits in the crease of my lung

It keeps me awake with its incessant hum and

It da da da da da

It da da da da da

---

Funeral Portraits

Pagliacci

Helped Me Out Of A Hole

Ophelia

Lonely Lamb

In Retrograde

Take Care

Our Greatest Glory

Paradise Lost

In A Birdcage

Blood In The Snow

Pandora

No Teeth

Without Wax (Open Letter)

Burning Bush

Beyond Belief

All.ways

-----

Every laborious lesson learned, I bare to you. 

So, I write this letter to you, and everyone else in fact, My hurting heart, without wax. I’ll be the black cloud looking down

Out of your depth

In over your head

The rhythm of life, ebbs and flows

Nobody knows

Another begrudged,

Lap of the sun

It’s the death and the birth. For better or worse.

Sick and tired. Sick of crying.

The side of the bed where you once slept is cold as hell

I am not defined by the illness in my mind

Still got my heart in a birdcage

Those days

Maybe weeks

Maybe months

Made me weak

Give up on me

Like everybody else

Even myself

In your eyes I saw it die. Like it or not - Paradise Lost

And now my body shudders every time I hear your name. I know not of a love like ours; We’re chained.

Was it a magnetic field, or gravity, that brought you back to me?

When you walked in the room, how was I to know,

That we were sat together, like blood in the snow?

Every angels wing is clipped and bent - The devil made me deaf

If I could look into your eyes for the rest of my life, or walk the whole entire world with your hand in mine, I would never be ready die.

Live and die in black and white

Just so you know,

I swallowed every single bow,

That tied me to you

I’m doomed. A pulse-less moon.

Floating to and from, the maelstrom of,

You. A limp harpoon.

Floating from and to, my sibling moon. Begging for guidance.

Leave your dreams alone

“A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”

Pandora

Pagliacci

It’s fine

To sit and cry

Every night

If that’s what you want

Please just be my friend

I haven’t got much else

--------

It really broke my heart when I read you say

“It’s better to burn out than to fade away”.

As much as I respect you, I could never take your advice;

Though I resent it - I cherish my life.

----------

In Glorious Memory Of The Love I Lost

On the outside we’re fine,

We’re just two miserable magpies.

I remember the crack in your voice when you said “I’m leaving”. Just another person that left me behind

This Dream Of Mine  (Dramamine?)

I remember it all. The rise. The fall.

I remember it all. The climb. The crawl.

I remember the ————

It’s the death and the birth. For better or worse.

Sick and tired. Sick of crying.

I think I’ve lost my mind.  Where has it gone?

I’ve been missing things for so long

I thought you were a magpie, turns out you are a crow. One for sorrow, two for joy. Now I’m all alone.

The Last Letter

To the moment I sleep, from the second I wake, I dwell on my mistakes

But you always cared

I’ve stared at these paper walls for so long

You don’t want to make me well. You just want to know what makes me sick.

Mourning Song / Celebration Song

The side of the bed where you once slept is cold as hell

I am not defined by the illness in my mind

I lie awake at night thinking of all the days I’ve wasted

Still got my heart in a birdcage

Those days

Maybe weeks

Maybe months

Made me weak

All of the pain that we harbour

I wish we were kids in the garden

Not just skeletal targets

Spill my guts

So sick of love

So sick of

I’m

All out of rhyme

All out of rhythm

All out of time

------------- An open letter of sorts - My musings and thoughts.

I pressed your flowers in to my book, so when I miss you I know just where to look.

Whenever I see the tapestry your blessed hands have wove for me - The poetry, the misery, it all meant so so much to me.

Just give me a lobotomy, and cure these things inside of me so maybe I can then be free, to love you for eternity.

But

The side of the bed where you once slept,

Is cold as hell.

The side of the bed where you once slept,

It’s empty now.

I tried to hold your hands, but they were always pushing me,

Towards my hopes and dreams.

If, in another life,

My heart is beating fine,

And love is on my mind,

You’ll be the first in line.