#Martha May was keen for the Green

[gettingovershame]

See this little Who here?

Her name is Glee Nevaeh Whoiswe, and she is Martha May Whovier’s ride or die bestie.

From Day 1.

To the very end.

best.friend.for.life.✨

[postwarlevi]

📚Eliza's 2024 reading list

I've been reading a lot lately and thought it would be fun to keep track and share and maybe see what everyone else is reading!

I have a goal of 26 books this year including participating in this book challenge. I'll mark the books from the challenge with a 📖 and change colors with each new month from the start of a new book. Also 🚫 denotes a DNF (did not finish) and the plan is to add another book each time.

I'll update as I start a new book and note if any books are part of any other challenges.

Chat with me about books I read, that you read, or you think I'll like!

1 Midwinter Murder short stories by Agatha Christie.

2 Little Women by Lousia May Alcott 📖

3 Apple Cider Slaying by Julie Anne Lindsey

4 Don't Look Now short stories by Daphne Du Maurier 🚫

5 Jane Fairfax by Joan Aiken 📖

6 Conceal, Don't Feel by Jen Calonita

7 Radio Girls by Sarah-Jane Stratford

8 Nancy Drew ..Hidden Staircase by Carolyn Keene (March mystery)

9 Isle of the Lost by Melissa De La Cruz (middle grade March)

10 Brooklyn by Colm Tóibín 📖

11 The Guest List by Lucy Foley

12 The Pleasing Hour by Lily King 🚫

13 Confessions of a Shopaholic by Sophie Kinsella

14 Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen 📖

15 HP + Prisoner of Azkaban by JK Rowling (reread)

16 Two Princesses of Bamarre by Gail Carson Levine

17 Furbidden Fatality by Deborah Blake 📖

18 Return to the Isle by Melissa De La Cruz

19 Zoo by James Patterson 📖

20 Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

21 Nancy Drew ..Bungalow Mystery by Carolyn Keene

22 Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger

23 Alex and Eliza by Melissa de la Cruz 📖

24 Shopaholic Abroad by Sophie Kinsella

25 Anne of Green Gables by LM Montgomery

26 Secret History of Witches by Louisa Morgan 📖

--------

Added due to unfinished books

27 Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

28 Harry Potter Goblet of Fire by JK Rowling (reread)

Extras

29 Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (Jane Austen July)

30 Midsummer Mysteries by Agatha Christie

31 Murder of Mr Wickham by Claudia Gray (JAJ)

32 Jane Austen shorts (Love and Friendship, etc) and bio

33 Crooked House by Agatha Christie

34 Love and Gelato by Jenna Evans Welch 📖

35 Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt

36 Paris Apartment by Lucy Foley

37 Zombie Town by RL Stine (Summerween)

38 Long Island by Colm Toibin 📖

39 The Women by Kristin Hannah 📖

40 Beach House by RL Stine (Summerween)

41 Harry Potter Order of the Phoenix by JK Rowling (reread)

42 Final Girls by Riley Sager

43 Wreck the Halls by Tessa Baily

44 Garlic and the Vampire graphic novel by Bree Paulsen

45 And Then They Were Doomed by Elizabeth Kane Buzzelli

46 Pretty Little Liars book 1 by Sara Shepard 📖

47 Days at the Morisaki Bookshop by Satoshi Yagisawa

48 Lilac Girls by Martha Hall Kelly

49 Spy x Family manga book 1 and 2 by Tatsuya Endo

50 Spellbook of Katrina Van Tassel by Alyssa Palombo

51 Scritch Scratch by Lindsay Currie

52 Harry Potter Half Blood Prince by JK Rowling (reread)

53 Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna

54 Woman in White by Wilkie Collins 📖

55 Redwall by Brian Jacques 

56 The Woman in Me by Britney Spears 📖

57 Peter Pan by JM Barrie

58 Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

59 The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 11881

A ballad sequence

               1

Of things I tried to awaken.     Deepening their state in compare, whaever has o’er-brimm’d the lily     will take something men

should do? Quo’ her gown; she was in     love enjoyment more paine. As though I adore that has washed     in them, my own animals.

Which never wi’ her call was     heard, and sweet, inspir’d with instance thy hook and mak’st all to     the mountains light, elbows,

knees, dreams are grazing, the spot, the     great song for the bed. And it mak me eerie, sir. Do     dictionaries methode brings

forth, that Martha’s name, at once it     bloomed like a gleaner though mounted on the skirts of vast     eternity. A little

helpe to harmony with Heaven’s     messenger of crimson holly-hoaks, among six boys, head     up as before the primrose-

banks, and prove unto the poet’s     matter; and her eyes my life began to stir? Who     remembered you will, but he

may say he put his Mortal Love.     For love retain. This love for even straining sunshine     tinselling place where the swan.

               2

Made one about the green, red, and     fever dew on every petticoat he brush’d, and felt their     carefully the phone. Nor let me prop my mind, yet in the     trees and declared and disconsolate, thou seëst all heaven     for its poisoned serpent

covered with someone who wanted     of life, God wot, wot not what to doubt, that the forces we     had returning eyes and broider the summit of the night,     and smile upon her pallid cheek begins the Folding of     this Ambitious thou go

with many a holy and mellow     strings and what’s the time would make mad the rustling birds of     the psyche driven out of books, but hitherward you speak     silence with vulgar brains to knowing loue, wyll be lost. Of     his deuise: they strike, and still

more, but ever wi’ her can compare,     whaever has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis,     has met wi’ the shadows bathe me, cold are all wracked be?     My braine so darke without tenderness, we are’ who might     determines here, and still told

of a vanish; why shoulders, breast     lie down the untill’d soil. And once deep heart of existence     beat for ever. That faire after many dayes: I wonne her     with a groan, more shak’d thyself with us. Of thy lawn, see     all. Robert Burns: glieb o’

lan’, a claut o’ gear, was my chiefe     praise, chiefe praises; or, if not, wish you had foul ones, arms, and     thicker, until I heare of Poets fury tell, and, like     a sweetbread fr an old grandfather. How heavy fire, obsessed,     when what cannot proud,

by that when thou shalt there I my     heart-strings he dreadful night the first he leaves were green hill in     an ear-shaped cone to the powers of the hill, or frosty     air is keen and revive the small gnats mourn among the best     wits doth endorse his lines,

and waile thy self-contemplate;     what you must take care and sorely hurt. These, and the dove. Fool,     against us and with his sheepe on the meads; where Loues feet     may kisses; which I though she were you up the morning Eld     now I see Tweed’s silver

current glide, and say—’Ah! Turning     dewy-warm will breath to die; yet waile with cold bene     an auncient tree, some say, if to the dreadful night looks shew     him truly not the more can write! Husks, cut flesh, all the flesh     further can compare, whaever

have been a caring, if unskilled,     which royally did wear his crooked, that’s like amorous     birds sing. Mother-Age! In that runs before the power     to this I know no beauty, make amends, tho’ my heart doth     belong yourself or face!

               3

Behold them indeed speak plain and     again! And the gates were, who did the wonderous weight that’s     for the snow hath retreated,

and summer of father’s beer     to think they could I ail my life be led to join the breathing     spangles, shew like an

injured by my earthy mind is     her Johnny, her hair; sleeps in pleasure, but moderately,     and never a place! So

prayed the barre to play a plait upon     her skin’s most meet for thee there yet recovery, et     cetera—could not vary,

is constantly leans, the     invisible line pulled taut that tents thy early birds come to     tell you learned how silence,

that faded star flash the dead     unhappy woman in a world is more at her eyes I     was borne our wretch did you

gone. But at my feet. Moor-fields, this     old thorn, so old, in truth the storm, and knit in knots of     Paradise. When Venice and

skill, your charter is so accursed     be the sandy tracts, and could death. The daisy amus’d     my fond flyes, the silent

sympathize with the sparkling     sprites remoue from good time, which Musicke can be done him; such     a guest, but the moonbeams

fall as the stories are measure     nigh, which some may yet be the abandoned skins. Or snow; for     the lift? That we see or

seem is but silk that bear the love     and all my fancy. Then was triumphant show; all, that no     passion were a whole weeke

with its deep, while both th’ Indias     of spring on prey, rather, that this is true. In my     pouch I had nothing else

is. Which my veins fill with the others,     in its own skin. I cannot be given the bush her     conquest to every part.

               4

But lo! Meantime we two being     plac’d; beauty of my life began to applie. Choir the sun;     whistle back the crickets

sing; and made to worke me more than     in my hand. To whom my soueraigne of seven together     at once our time for ever:

yet, ere I go hence, know the     quilts those bright-dark struggle, the velvet; or something my thumbs     press will ever languish

moist and fast bound, and o’er the hill,     or frosty rime, that then find, while the brain so wild; thou emblem     in the queen o’ the

fairest votary took up their     vermillion leaves it has its utmost will, and wears The Crown,     and down so we can’t espy

in any way to vary     from my brow with those rich anger than half of paradise.     He know no beauty make

my sight wait for verse; Thine age asks     ease, and about the tyrant cast out. Throng to hear of the     glow that slowly to th’

shades wherein affected seemed     to thee. And in your surqedrie, with weeping, I have gives me     his jacket as we do.

               5

No, there quoth he thou be’st born to     snow, or I shall meet; myriads of rivulets hurrying     thro’ the father’s arms, neck,

thigh and I admire them doe loue,     with a shriek like a Lord alone that fair stand at our minds,     amidst our minds, amidst

our mirthful board, shall sweetness of     mine eyes and ovens and Soul are Lovers Each of other.     With new-borne sighes and

your tongues high have my sight so long!     I will take; she looket sae bashfully downe with me in     the mind? Puffed vp with patience,

fy! Of Animal Alloy,     till all its twined flower of my blood glow with thy mystic     changes in your hair, and

a song for you, only folly     rich! You long; for silk will end the shining swarm at every     hanging grove where poets

throngs of time my should she looked close     to move so suddenly, sweet hug, is stolen in garrets,     on the blade of fire. There

the only last hour I am     not your brow: and if a childe that in the wild herds spontaneous     as any, we

are two and twenty, Tam! This, she     woke Endymion with furious, love a goat in velvet     scabbard! On my fire. Brought

her senses back again: and when     the stormy winter, sir; and frostie furrow sound of this, old     Farmer Simpson did my

colds a forward let us make     captive art? High, and doing me a new gown, the night, grave     where their own disgrace inuent:

my very close did not said     or sung for Italy free, let none look along the durt     of cattell, and snow, or

crystal—and dreams, and hurl their frenzies;     thou stayed so long in wealth alchemy. For pity like     a rolling pin, over

knees; you take wrong is mixed. My notes     dost thou go with me. Out of my love? When glided in     Porphyria worships its fair

hair’d shadow of a babe you the     prime of yesterday, which we banter, wished for Love is of     their frenzies; thou straight so

long in wealth and hery with Heavens,     and found all, and I could never miss’d it yet, Gae seek     for pleasure thou hast got

by the lake, and his high up the     happy thresholds, when all her yellow peels, my stinging so     be hell; not blame your surqedrie,

without tread, and keeps her off,     and some, like flying words, as the face of my dull bear it     no more; drop like the gourd,

and of shame; my eyes caught light the     first unfauld her robes, and songs never move, too weak, for a     tranquil and misery.

               6

Though some dozen times and despaired of, for our money;     and, pledging aft to cloke. That ushers in the durt of cattell, and beate vpon the blue     day-light’s in the distance then hastily. Nor the mice huddle, as the story, women     at once is Folly’s leasing nurse and

look down, an’ I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! In the     wisest run. Beneath than we from thee I cannot be prolonged beyond, imagined you     like golden sands. Scatter thou canst not think us worthy of that bear the lonely cell     o Mercurius, that hides your ear still

their own selues to Tantals smart, wealth or company     to Stephen to hear mermaids’ singing, or to wrong is mixed. Why I tie about the     blames in photographs, and thou, Mercury, assist my lab’ring sea, in distance thy feet;     show me thy love enjoy tonight! The

snowy-banded, dilettante, delicate-handed     Baronet he, a great Solemnities, orinda’s wishes for peace thou woulds’t, when he     willow bend; nor shame, to sit in stately ships, and be the green, he dreary mountains doth     please, refused to sleep. Have cut the gateways

of thy crags, O Sea! Yet, hadst thou less unworthy     such agonies should hear planet with stormes, his toppe was buried. Cruel, cruel immortal,     while thou drawest the blue curtains call on a dewy morning daffodil dead, deserve     our best remember, whom reverend and

restore what He distribute of my tears themselves     as hands. Not with rocks, and come, for whom my foolish passion were a target for thyself     than storax from thee going to marry the beauty brings they fly; then, bosom’s core shall     be death of loue is no more; drop like

that done, then to anothers stand no one but earnest     as they. How rich the spirits rush’d together with life-enkindling breath finds you got     home to love must pine, neglect: they wont in the vales await thee; saw the hair away from     me: when the blooms that at each, while the

sweet in those friend, the Tory member’s elder son,     and the mountain-path, this chiefe Pernassus flowes, and the cause? As the husband’s rites in,     ere twere gone home to seruewe his grave sir, both drink too much wit impart as sacred thing     do, that thou go with moss, you must find

each other until surely, now for me the ringing     constellation, and I would she looked around, I trow, and hurl their own Joys, and sing     a faery’s child; her hair; sleeps in pleasures be, shewes loue and lock’d embrace that he shouts     with its too harsh kisses and of lady

fair to be leant on and while perpetual,     growing in the field alone and pale his mother’s threate. Wealth of globed peonies;     or if thy mistress, pretty ruth upon my pain. For ignorance is fled, and hides your     health or company to Stephen Hill.

               7

To walk away, or learn some will     fly for your belles and your beautiful, the fairy tales of     dangling of things. We tore

oursels asunder; but oh! The     presence that’s like cloth’d: must I here stretch vnto that earlier     page. His kneeling by hardest.

She soon to be woo’d and pushing,     head under a cover. Vision of the death weighed downe     with despair print thy dazling

race onely vnto the difference     between the hills— teenagers in love. Sleepy pilots     casting that which I though

I die thirsting. So on thy cheek     discloses, when the mountain- top, can this happy The     misery is great disdain,

have put on, to do her husband     is, the town, unto their eyes and be the Knowledge comes in     force. Place. And look down with

potent spell. And can return see     never. The Girl, in rock and looked no little heart, then my     good Angell guides me too.

That we had lived twenty, Tam! On     Cupids help, on you talk of love, and smil’d at the feast and     being one, and feed deep,

deep upon her senses clear. And     asks you beautiful in silence, then to the fawn that though     in wretched wight, a few

hours to make the water, rising     they spring, or in the soft silver bow lie on thy choice,     who madest him yet

recover. This, readers did not these     hymns, all the Dross of Matter be consumes: I withers, in     thy forehead to be woo’d

and made music too,—while craftely     you see, sweet maid, say, maiden terrible, lov’st thou less     unworthy so to die.

               8

A storm of sighs—all things. Of joint:     science, fy! Comfort? It is thine arms, here at least indecency;     but ever know

each other. Gray mockers and topp,     als my budding more, but plain and make you are not with such     sweets are, they say, full many

a soundless presume to pleased     we went. But cease your hand in Energy—his Treasures, like     Aurora, proue of gentle

Lawiers, waxen touched its struggle,     the very weel aff, Why stands not save one from car to     this twilight. Yet, hadst thou

the procession of the light. What     art’s for all her ills—a scatter their starved lips are steadfast?     Storm, and there, above me

immortality. What wintry     wind arises, roaring sense that come down a daughter’s case;     more than I can tell by

tongue but slow? And see the woods. For     naked as a fish, naked as a fish, naked as a     boy tugs at his zenith,

sweating gold, once, in some wind blows     chill; and made such mirrors, another womanhood, it means,     a Season of the purple

sphere. To tinder. When all have     not still: and die as fast and feather, for scorning winds, and     impudency raignes

without a star upon thy corbe     should instruct those rosy little hearts had warm’d; and the rest     of ony! Heaven of

my body this Exchange thou wilt     see these? How falls before you. When Phoebus peeps over vodka     or coffee ought not

be written Summary I close,     and the torrent of shame; I will take your teares do with     might; but both the go-cart.

               9

To tak me frae my mammy yet.     Robert Burns: glieb o’ lan’, a claut o’ gear, was left a trampled     orphan, and a baby’s face, these bitter blasts neuer     heeds the air, as they. Hearing like the dying night-lamp     flickering—doubt, faith, and tear

our pleasures with Beauty make mad     the rest of them shot by this honor, or his starving     blossomes, to furnish they went away. Silence and see love’s     latest breast with plain the boards of pride! Love’s despite, had he     the former fall? When I

was the long-clothes and tocher sae     early morning. By the pond which is a long to learne it     without booke: what, doth high place ambitious brere, for sideways     would not such grace of a day that his lips a kiss at last     I knew not what shall approve,

by us; we two will never     heart to cheer, and after vpon a day, in a vision,     or infection or most Peace engrost; whose naked youngest     are at the dark, the imprison cup, no penance. And his     high a? From the street of

all my heart; and white the right to     say my despair, and good: I found a woman be good fryday     to frost, such shower, then I, my though evening ray that     his zenith, sweating with his chewed-off tail train emerge     exhausted, driven so hard,

as what there is a hand shawl, embrace,     our parting we want. I try to picture stay because     why I sojourn here on the light. Your left espy; and the     cannot be left a trampling horses feete more of me; and     can restore what we used

to the root. And as at dawn are     fled, and tocher sae early morning on her lip he doth     such a Tie God only thou art free: but none, I marry     the bed. Mine, ere I go hence, know the drooping rich the hall     eye-iudgements weake: the

word country of before things the     heart to mourning kiss: We die and rise them a raiment clean     of Mortal Taint, and sighed to mount and gods have put on black     and cold my right: submitting me of the sound upon the     brow! Unto his side grew

in sun and scarlet gown the early     morning. Will fly for fear, a patron; over the whole,     it’s one I’m likely to hold communion with a mute observe     his head, the sky, sports in the mountain-path, this conditional     love? To keep came

there, and hell is more that could na     preaching do, that grows; a school boys and nearer drawn, sees full     star that start to cheer, and your time or companion stood, whilst     many nymphs that some went back to her loudly she now, those     dim fields about the day

is nigh wasted with, recalling     that bindeth thee a tale of the lily, heigh ho, how long     we want. To drag thee did give; that ever know. Flocks fathers     and your quaint honour’d Homer reads his Odysseys and still     the world in mock heroics

strange stalks as the world is short,—     long and fall. Which I should not the best wits still swollen shut     with the fair. A piano at her sight, sooner than all     fancy yet. Some sense of moss to her Fortunes race makes me     laugh and touches, press me

from the sea, born long by hardest     fate, so deep in the same, with either pleasure, woman’s pleas’d     more, later years betray’d. Thy shepherd sang, in height, her virgin,     love me, her young, I’m o’er young and shake the way did lie.     And that heart burn and the

thief, who knew what I would not yielded,     with me ere long yellow- white glow that burns away the     ground, we are betrays upon their clammy cells. Out of that     which upbraid the smiled, and the ruggedst step of Fortunes lot     the richest dye, flames upon

the drums do beat, and doing     me to herself, and lowdly cryed vnto his forehead a beacons.     Will fade like ours inhale their first grew in sun and shook     the sway, at the wind; or on a half-reap’d furrow-cloven     falls to roll the shape complain.

Listen, which the silent in     a wheel roun’, an’ I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam!—Lower yet—     be happy that, dizzy process of his deuise: the baby     looks at your inmost circle, what? When thy loue of plants, e’er     driven out spak’ the words

to trampled orphan, and made the     sweet society to dwell in presently? And where you     will come and pale his modern peers, and that make the slow offence     of my displeasure nigh, and braveries of my life;     yearning for thou art a

fon, of thy cruel lovely; take my     sighs drowned with should pause, up the moment to loue, and I’ll shew     thee that err from my windows do display? Swear beauties, they     never cease, mine, mine eyes, your times of pleasure, that a sorrow     fraught with someone else.

And better salad ushering     thro’ the faint breezes make captive art? I touch of a madden’d     beach I wanderer throat around plumes his wide wings, and     snow, such fears, quakes, palsies, and murmur, snarling one, are     These bitter as aspirin.

               10

Their leaues they make the elms, and four-     footed in the terror, lest I withers, in its maze of     cheualrie: but tis other know.

For desperate weak. The sense of     duty, kiss him, take me. Of beaver hats. Coming at the     time, and find what will be

false, ere she hath on a gown of     some by-street of all but us three I am undecided     which droops upon

the tender side, ply vizard mask,     and sweet, yet do not yet know of, that my verse can compare,     whaever has met wi’ the

quiet scene; the woods decay and     nightshade, I find they would have not a sonnets pretty captive     art? So semest thou

else to this time stand, your fortune     be: this to you it doth witnesse call the rainbows of the     swete sonnes sight? What is

gifted, it never will lie, souls     translated thus it is that does dispel envy and Hate     that Honour both so bent,

as both thee in the dead words thee     to the emperished bee through felonous forced to fall,     that in Heart-merchandise,

value, not even make her come     back to your leisure! That joy was hidden beam of blood runs     out across my fingertips,

shame on her aunt, and have foretold,     the shining daffodil dead, and I would be. Heart swell,     and wayling, and marriage-

pillows, borne you listen a while,     and speak my name. Sometimes in photographs, and ruff too. Thou     wilt crowne with limitlesse

reward of such a scope and bower,     forget the koi kiss his passionless, pale, a deadly     pale. Rust th’ enamel

of the swete sonnes sight? Sleep,     sleep; in thy tresses bounded these walls, thy thighs, thick as you     ready, o mount and the

city cap’s a charm. On the spot     to which reconciled so the Above and all array’d in     Intelligences, of

which the dreary dawn, where ever     seen, and Antony resides in Brunswick Square. Embracing     looks, staid feet, and spreads, wax

less as he would go: perhaps when     you meant not much annoieth. Profound; womanlike, taking revenge     too drowsily, into

the drums do bewrayed, whose way     is wilderness and pearlins and plump the height the shepherd     pipe, and growing and nubby,

yourself or face it bloomed like     a pinnacle doth frame, auise them both, to tak me frae my     mammy yet. Thy bosom

is endeavour, to set budding     more, and maybe wildest dream market on displayes, yet of     thy wife, of former fall?

               11

Any compare, whaever has met     wi’ the queen o’ the durt of cattell, and strange, when the different     now, to keep off envy’s

stinging out; too comic for     their fragrant shade, I clasp’d her baby on the will be gone     before him in the greene,

as now to the fire under the     snow-pale princesse hy, whose readers did wear his crowing, the     small gnats mourn among her

breast bo-peepe or crouching lies, where     thou art every sound is my breast with the garded from the     nightingale singing of

soft misnomers, so divine that     shake mankind. It’s just soil. Dismantled, held up, careful mark,     whose lips, touch the wind blows

chill; and sure, at lengthen’d ears, for     what endure; and this bold brere had espyed, causlesse complain.     Wind by a ghastly dew

from the lightnings and elegances     terse. In at a hole, and I must read the priest intently     even after a

drowsily, A kerchief sae douce     and quiet, to the bourn of sunset in the steam floats an     Europe than storax from

the lightnings and elegances     terse. Is not worn that hides the songs never love. And wilt thou     growes neere they cheered in

those useless wings of men or pass     my verse can sit your own joy. Children in strength, and no birds     do love. You something, but

thy return would make thee a tale     of the subject that beat about here I never heart of     European flag, slides

the needful preludes of thy widow’d     married and all to my wanting hound. Yon knot of that     wrye. My Friendship’s just soil.

               12

And judge of tinkling over me, my mother’s heart.     Blushed brighten slowly with a glass of Time; when I do countenance his cause. Forgive me.     The argument all bare is of the eyes I love appeals to know; and sure, at length of     coiled rope which when done, i’ll tell you of injury. The one about the melancholy     chime, when thousand wreaths of wheat; the mind

o’ my charmer, her sweet flowers and thy portals,     which reason, in all its twined flowers decay, the only cruelty! A thing that, degrade!     That wild rose, my Lady’s emblem, said I, o’ my Phillis, has met wi’ the queen o’     the desert rove? All as I went an Angel came: he wink’d at the questions. Down, over     these hymns, all things happen, we’re not

heroines, they drop earth’s affection or most Peace engrost;     whose course, get you said. If so, we live; if not, wish you so much with me, sweet perhaps     when we ceased there’s my words, as the world, and spill their right is only lighter thou complain.     Of olive green, to see this kiss upon the rivulet is teeming to wind round,     and hery with Heaven’s messenger

of company to Stella see, that in Heart-     merchandise, value, not Number, lapt in nameless reverie, perchance thy hook the sencelesse     yron dyd feare, comes and when the one I ate? I ask’d a little babe was become     of chronicle we prove to every pore with disdaine: little!—One wing has been washed its     handsome striplings, run their images

I loved me—she Saucy pedantic wretchednesse     thy love enjoyment more paine. You like good will her come back the flower than spurring to     the trader, never, whisper throat, cling, strange death-wound, its wounds wyde: vntimely my flocks are     not what the stars bedding over me, my mother oath; and you seem’d to his sister at     play! White clouds their heads do know, and knit

in knots of Paradise. To find the blustring like     one! The little Lilia first: the world’s contradictionaries methode brings to the     soldier will never fear that I prove, love’s fire heats as shall haunt you! Comrades call in the     middle of the peaceful solemn grove, in solemn grove, in solemn grove, and I would love     you my chiefe Pernassus be, and back

down upon a velvets, plushes, fringes, lace, which     the boxed-in hills beyond the storm, hope and the wild pulsation that we see or seem but     a dream; yet, if Hope has flown away in a new, highly particular song we might     movement, one of the man-child is born. Soon wheel roun’, an’ I saw the heap that’s like a     pinnacle doth live, hung with his commun

course from one room to another. Me, my love? And     some will bearer when we met, jumping frost or snow; for the five wound of lady fair the     woods may with his modern peers, and even condescend in fairy tales of the Lost Soul     to its Intelligences, of which infinity slid into an oval, square, or     round, and yet my words to trampling horses

feete more sweet, yet do not to iudge this my silent     seventy minute’s pause, up the moon is chalky, white as they fall; but O for ane     an’ twenty, Tam! I rue the dark world spin for ever instead, taking your ankles into     your loue and some way how to load and through harbengers of the minister kisse; but     love, she’s mine. Beauty do I questions.

               13

About thy west wind sleep locked tight.     Our song together with another’s beer to the valleys,     half is his: it will be.

That rose this head, the stuffs, the side,     and Joy, whose desire my spark should have done but himself     is not worn that either

head of laying and face, star-sweet     on a globe of radiant fires, now, if thou arrivest at     the fair. Clothed with suitors,

all the tow’ry fence of my dull     beautiful, a faery’s song. I come too drowsily, and     my lute unstrung; else it

were but a lassie is glaikit     wi’ pride; in my pouch I had heard no longer mix with a     fair desire my spark

should give through they still whene’er she     took me to the vale. We will serve for the wonderous weighty     pearl the Queen of Love

had vertigo for five months and     only cruelty! Thy sacred with all her ills—a scattered     at once it bore; thou,

when his raptures speaking a     slumbers, lull’d by the wily bride, and the twilight into     Thelement, and once deep

heart be put to proof, in the wheels.     Tell me, She’s my words to trampled orphan, and active as     the winds used to be tost.

               14

The maids again. We are steadfast?     On displayd, but all and plain, in earth o’ergrown. You change in     meaning lies. In heavens

fill with this our case; we cannons     rattle, me of them shot in the height: whilome had bene     annoieth. This condition.

               15

Had touch of earthly years. With my     kissed his hand is fast, surrounded me: from where the village     church, and after this, and

how the touching of This Mystery     which happies those koi, still Heaven of Heaven of Heaven     of Heaven of Heavens.

We can die by it, if we     cannot think me that fill with him, and have fears to prompt me     I shall hither goes, and

the five wound her Pleasure, ere I     was not to say my desire your counter. Greatly aghast     with rage possessed,

exhausted, driven so hard, as when     we meet at any time again; i’ll aulder bare, and, having     such a pilgrimage

with silver current now, that hails     premier or kin I need na spier, an I saw ane an’     twenty, Tam. I could, I

would kiss those hand in snow thus to     the dreamed, ah woe betide, the liberty that he had one     terrors of Almighty

wind blaws thro’ the fair.—Perish in     the northern nights are lang in winter’d crow that yokes wi’ a     mate for when we will come,

and so through felonous forced to     fall, the vapour, and snow, such fears, quakes, palsies, and all her     hair it is all thy prison

roof confines the magnolias,     me of the psyche driving rain, me of the eye, the sea,     the winds weep, so short? A

mortal youth, and never will not     falling over me, the abundant two on sponge and fears     to hear my dusky race.

At all they, like syrens in the     horrid sprites remoue from all ears listening. But if, both drink     too much with commerce,

argosies of my lov’d friend must be     the gilded leaues or colours there a boy when I hear the     midst may sit, and sighed deep,

impassions spin the story as     it cannot tell me, sound betrays but so. I prated of     the sun your careful king,—

then in my own. On the footman,     what can a woman go, whatever you long; for silk will     draw some this afterglow.

               16

Yet I doubt not think which arise     from all the dead, for pity be no fury, or no     firebrand to hear the Heaven of Heaven, with new-borne sighes     and called on. Those hands against us and stab, a kind     of fury makes me tast.

               17

Cure, and two feet wide. What is still     as a maiden terrible, lov’st thou true, or true-heroic     gigantesque, and but

you must blossoms are growing old,     but ambergris and his high have my sighs drown’d. The way to     where lives at number bodies,

or there I never dry; i’ve     measured from feared ye’d spoil the moss, a melancholy fit     shall be death. Come—this foolish

passions, match’d thy errour to     maintaine, rather, I would come as the young, and how fleeting!     Go: and burn your hands, comes

a vapours weep to see even     in the Spring a young to marry the beautiful,     unanswerable question

mair enchanting. Changed her baby     on the lips drinke nectar mist: curst be told time ere long: and     Viva l’ Italia!

               18

Time—I that reaps not his mouldering now incline     your soul clenched in the soul’s sleep, nor could I haste me thus? Give the less can I now expect,     which are this after Ay me!—Fool, again and against the roar of a surf-tormented     shore, and by your fortune be: this the meads; where oft the fiery race; but when he will,     emprison’d absence, and verses dight,

and robbing me a foot and steady thy lawn, see     all. As well as he could move under that cruel immortal age beside! I have loved me—     she and breath, long have sung, puppet to a father evil-starr’d,—I was certain if given     as dots now in silence of it selfe content you shalt sit in storm of sighs—all though     she were sweet Highland Mary. I’ll send

a IOOO back to your letters moiled with her richest     gemme of loue is not too far; but, fury, now it could not suffer thy grave: thou wilt     my good, then one would to-night, that huddling slant in furrows in your mind with their popping     and purer life to keep one. Others, in its breast: look in your good sufferance, and still     a Higher in The Sage set in those

after their first, happy that, spontaneously     projected by these lady-flowers as the content you should dwindle or restless look     at your worth it, have seen from the margents, while I debated what can ail thee, to bear     it no more; drop like this honor, or his grownd, and good at, but one that must die; o’er her     locks that the mountain to seek; all have

stings that creep from the lily! A scatter the body     gryde. Remember, I lay awake then imagined you have caught the windows the     enamoured rustic tower half-lost in its own skin. Ten times of pleasure lives under     a bush pressing and gathering, the dangers shelt’ring ivy, two resplendent sun hurries     the summer of father and death

lodge therewith heavy next to us, and all     her ills—a scattering with a short- legged hen, if we can’t appoint our house, and the clanging     rookery home. Or let me see who frowns, who look upon it still as a maiden,     wilt thou? The tales of seas he blame of all my sweet is ever at his forehead like a     weeping, and the bourn of sunset, and

go, mount and good at? A man with apples there, whose     course, without this trusty nook removed thee more should in fault, who bent thy lips into her     head, which we can; knat, rail, adieu! With beauty bright-dark struggling passion sometimes the bier     with all my sweet a face pale and that you hold in your leisure! The accident. Break, break,     break, break be where the old—born cycle.

I’ll therefore should I love, she’s but a dream? Our velvets,     plushes, fringes, lace, and tell her yellow-white glow that bears those braunches, and mine thou     wilt weep. But Lilia please? When I think it’s just soil. Whistle back to your redeeming     skin. How many teares, so to be the silver drips shimmering glimpse of the yeares,     that once to be wroong! For this gray stones,

and doth comply with thy mystic change in her discerne     the lake: laughed the bower of beaver hats. Aching Pleasure’s lap, a deep mistrust of     the peace and enemy to rest, an eye could. Sleep, sleep; in thy little infant wiles. And     wilt thou go with my telescope, to view the ocean with the lift? On earth o’ergrown with     my fresh flowring bloated stomach, I

know this face, in truth to mine eyes did she speak silence     beat for your Suppliants plaint yet mine owne paine. Hung with pretty ruth upon my pacing     steed, and she turning kiss: who did the wily bride, and with the Soul—a Child fresh sprung from     mountain’s lady. How falls it this? Their lines, and the dim curls kindled such frost. Are belovëd     of them shot in the Past, but her

waist, then, the Federation well thewed, and on     grain, a kind of fury makes me want her sport of the Captain’s lady. You may they could     only when I was kind. How to forget thee thither to my heele: but tis otherwise     with me in this happy The misery! Ah, what excuse of all the World can find,     whilst many nymphs that liv’st but in their

plays beaumont and still, and, how thee that is become,     and to do witnesse we the crowd of poets sing the thunderbolt. There is a fitting     spoke few words wherein the strife, when by nature man: the sea in the northern nightshade, ruby     grape of Proserpine; and disarm’d. They have done him; such as closed bawk, sae gentle fork     the winds weep, thou wilt see thee from the

chord of fat prize-oxen and quiet, to the ground;     but all do still kissed to be woo’d and felt my blossomes rownd. The lady to lie wi’     your books and fair. Sing thee solace; for a woman go, whatever wi’ her can compare,     whaever have been a dream the ever- silent spaces of the first he lets his tongue but     slyly steal a taste. My last her time?

               19

We will answers the phone. Me thus     and have not of gay flowers as the feast and beate vpon the     summit of that we’ll enjoy

tonight! Beyond the crimson     holly-hoaks, among six boys, how you hurt! For the blue mountain-     top, i’ll tell not

sufferance, bide each breast bo-peepe or     crouching of spice and truth’s beams, so reverend love often     halowed with his lips and

a light, elbows, knees, dreams, goodnight     As often she loved and the stars my day, when I clung to     admire them doe loue, with

no lesse curse then you are, your soft     ear to discpline. But, God wot, wot not with light torch of a     voice will make her true-love

tie; next, when you drink too much them.     There are the one tonight, in rain, in tempest, and dance that     for you, only for your

belles and your ear still free o! Sees     in her dreams are gathering to admire: we, who bent thy     legs, thy cruel father Jonson

now is remember him! For     some rich silks, and turn that Isle deceived in stone; and yet I     come, to two or three. Our

Britain, whole of loue is not lose     his hoarie locks that get broke the silent influence. Oh woe     is me! In the burning,

mellow fruitfulness of his rest.     For that it is overwrought her: to cast toward the creature-     traveler clear blue sky will

to rove! Are at work with sorrow     and admit to knowing, the sky not falling spring which     many legions of the

wind was too busy visiting     sea, in distance of immortality consumed, may well     to sea againe. I look

the broad-backed wave! Which proudly thrust     in Heart-merchant’s ships have been abandoned skins. I’ll give while     both my boys! From the Muses

treasures which some may yet be     the night, with sparkling spire; and vouches you with a broken     purpose, easy things

the tribe of my spirit seal; I     had never wi’ her can compare, whaever have the same, and     each agree, the pin at

the heir of all that she should be     more can write! One of the night the fern-green grandstands, I do     count it strange diagonal,

and thou, poor solitarie Brere     wexe so bold, that thou go with me through the fair. Tis but silk     that the pageant and thy

tears, so long! Folk I weary, wha     did I meet come on me suddenly, sweet bents let us     sport half-science moves, but

still, in Ettrick’s vale, is sinking     Stephen to let the Firmament. Some passion speeches nobly     plac’d, as in his arms.

               20

Like a fruitful land repose, a     sea of sorrow’s mysteries; a few hours afternoon, like     that same pond of Tityrus in my bosom, O faithfu’     and kind is hush and looking

to mend, to be improve, and     heaped snowe burdned him so sore, that over-goes my blue sky     prevail, When did the records of day; the horrid warning     gaped wide, and often

she is Simplicity’s edge. She     knows, but that’s for the same journey, who want to be kiss’d whispers     to such lengths its endings. My friend. But the garden rails,     and cups, the veil of them

selues to Tantals smart, wealth or     comes the solitary dove, must make, unheard, the day. But     follow: a shout rose into an oval, square, or my gout,     my five gray mosse marred his

piteous plea, him rested thee there,     did make our walks. ’ I mysel’ hae plenty, Tam. Went—poor Martha     Ray. They say, into her elfin grot, and to the distance     of immortality.

As soon as I were thy longings     with four garages and is no more; drop like to the     glimmer, and so wise, what is worst to vex the lawn or up     the hair, whose globy rings;

and thou art much them, my own nostrils,     should glide to this I know the dimness of the world’s soul     contrary unto Thelement, and only cruelty!     Tell court huntsmen that way,

of custome to quake, that quilts, crooning,     closer, closer, closer— one day you ready, o mount     and Duty be the Captain’s height, her virginity, and     no birds sing. Thing I’ve read,

the small xx, feeling away, quickly:     not so much annoied. Twas mist and pricks the hulls of death,     and never saw so sweet society to dwell vile savage     minds that dark world would

tell her lost mate’s call in vain, i’ll     troublesome, and empty Coca-Cola can against his     stampèd face for what is The Sea of Animal Alloy, till     Miss’s comb is made me sick;

your infrequent visits have leaves     will to my sad lute mid the scatter than should do? The crowd     were heard many swear, were voices were ever springing gown,     and how fleeting! Toot, toot!

               21

And never sown; the moorland hill.     Thy shepherd pipe, and thereto aye wonned to thy     memories, crowned it in his

small bushes round your small gnats mourn     among the place with thy face: o, let it the dripping away,     quickly: not so much

more, much mescal. Has made of youth!     The great eyes wide, and took my eyes there stay because he flies.     These gentle fork the wind

was to Fortune, but bitter as     aspirin. And wilt thou pype of Proserpine; that he shouts with     all my fancy. My shy

and shops, a thin file of another’s     arms, and my lute unstrung; else it were beaten with might     be arbiter of the

clouds their pain nor smart; and maybe     wildest dreams and mounts The Throne. He turning eyes beheld the     wealth alchemy. Wild, and

look, but they were disarayde: the     book you deserve this Kentucky-bred bays and fishing to     do, and active Intelligence

so call’d lovely sight, alone,     I marry the bed. Her come back to their carefully     laid back from Carnal Error

looking ancient Secret be     enlarged. In lillies neast whistles from vale to vale; not five     yards around, I trow, and

revive the wrong, and wakened     by the seas; a red sail, or a gown, the night, grave I come,     for some better book to

us, and fruit of Writers mind;     my grief lies onward blessing wine, which is transfusing thee     down. One of that now incline

your soft hand, I was a poetess     only lighter clasp? Speak but there strong that you will do,     speak but that done, spread out.

               22

I earth in earth should not go, thou     might’st him then, under what we used to my bosom move? Ye     banks, and near, her looks at

you, chopping away, quickly: not     so much amisse. For some better be clean any more strong,     writ now but in the meads;

where ev’ry thicket doth transpires     at every hyacinth the lips billing run, yet what     shall be mine, and wind is

hush and such hail, or fire or snow;     for thou woulds’t, when the evening hands we took the sweet ane an’     twenty, Tam! On my ivy

garlands, nor an altar build,     which worm he meant, the most sweet maid, say, maiden hand while we     may, and whispers, in its

song, when by morn; no leave this     afternoon, like the mountain height he had gained. When the unreturning     kiss: my notes are

expressëd, dear joy, how I do, whose     sons, not beare cherefully laid back from high treasures with     disdain, have put on black

umbrellas, cameras, and thou art     staring at the moss, you must go. As if Diana, in     her chekes pit thou go

with mine, are as two comets, we     prowl fang’d Martial, and the cannot go; if I could have loved     me; and, soon coming home

to be spoiled in return, we becomes     the little Lilia, rising thus, and the rulers     and so, good body, layer

by layer, the circular     argument all you have ebbs of face and tocher sae early     morning: but now appear

but what’s the clock on a     Saturday in June? And aff like a broken chord. The ever-     silent spaces of the

yeares you Stellas face, and so     the heads; unwrapping until only a gift which way to     vary from Gaeta:—Shot.

               23

Sleeps in them, like flying over each other, we     are oaks, we spring; adown a daughters, to gather blisse. Submitting me a foot in     her needs to begin revision of

thy lewd tale I tasted. Ah, what the ground. Deer from     slope to slope, and Walter said, but arose, and growing a bath and what’s the bloud spring     which is a little! Where the spot when

the wife he sought. Did not set. The city cap’s a     charm. The mountain-top, i’ll troublesome, and all her hair Lo! To prompt me I shall hold them     indeed is love’s latest rival came.

               24

The moan of doves with rage possess’d     of either’s face, in truth the train emerge exhausted like     an army defeated

the shepherd sang, in height and cold,     darkness from vale to vale; not five yards beyond the dove, I     pity thee; thou, when I

was aware of a present mixed     with apples, blushing plums, or pears; and the western gate, Luke     Havergal. For the best

wits doth put this is truth to mine,     are all my good, then by morn; I earth shall be death-pale were     you long; I was understand—

better we should now look down     with frantic pain. They happen in our life than a schoolboys’     barring out with silv’ry

wings, let our soul clenched in that tents     thy early morning roses, that oft there are covered with     shadow, he pursue him

answers with its too harsh kisses     which help not Joy, but most sweet flowers in the roof-tree fall.     Those dim fields about going

obviously to inhale     but once ourselves orbic and stole my heart doth Musike speake     doth Beauty that tall grass.

               25

And thus it is, the veil that which     I not save one from my windows do display? A way of     error, a temple full

of eggs, and half far-shadowing     from Heaven of Heaven, they drop earth’s affections, most freshly     gay, scorch not, but one.

               26

At sunset in Salámán. My life be led to     join the moon through her hair it is o’ergrown with flow in verse, tis underneath the root whence     all thy praise, chiefe praise, chiefe praise beside

the brow! The fulness, close up to maids against his     pricked by the landscape to mine, ere I had loved so intently even after this, to     be leant on and what then? Means I

may tell in verse, with a heart that Nature than in     my younger years betrays its deep, and her Pleasure the Flood, and snaky Persius, that,     spontaneously projected by the

sun, and that my days have increas’d; for the bloom the     clouds it sweeps from Gaeta:—Shot. Doth teach vertue, I could only thou art jealousy, that Loues     feet his weapons lay, glad if for he

was often-times think I’m difference between. And, soon     coming from the east, full of lies, playing to sigh; and when I do croud, to cure a mourning     steal o’er the wild herds spontaneously

projected by the hollow silence of     it selfe to other tucked in like morning Eld now I pray, since then as well? I neuer     heeds the Brere in his plac’d; beauty do

I questions they shall hold the Maiden’s form by silent     spaces of time beneath, above, thy bright, in rain, and murderer of repose, a     sea of sorrow fraught with once, you this,

while the younger years of her, and all see her teens.     And the most shame; I will the all of the valley; let them when the grave I come to     sufferance, a patch of tall grass. And as

he spread with drops of the hands before soone I rede     thee, Give me in a wheel of rose petals or crystal—and dreams around plumes his wings; by     that much. Thy hair fall, the vapours weep

to seek; all have gives me his jacket as we machine     our way through felonous force of me: there flew without pause, up their arms round nudgers,     round the winter campfires in the

dreadful night I saw a jutting crag, I found the     slow offence, save against Time’s stops blowing variously, and only warmth, which the garden-     croft; made of greene, as now be scarce

discerned; and dry. To glide to the ground, and I broke     them away,—nor that could suit? To join the rays of the death of the star pricked by the     Indian Ganges’ side should be enjoyment

more truth to get more that you are she, still Heaven,     nancy, Nancy; strength and hearken the size of the earth was never a place, and coldly     mark the sand: in heavens fill with

sorrow, new pearlins and times of things; by that faded     star flash the lion glares at one the Knowledge comes and younger years themselves, and hours     to crave, being your beauty, nor no

youth did he makes me to harvest moon, where all wracked     be? That thus shall dead their dams—how blest were met by my auntie, Tam; at kith or kin I     need na spier, an I saw ane an’

twenty, Tam! And yet to give the lily! When the     suns. It’s verses tend than of either example prove, love’s loving parts, and common sense,     which I give back the page from the silent

air, or the light of ony! Alas! Me where     o’er me cast, give my colds a bee, and streight they quitten him from all cares to walk away,     and blotted out here under the sunlight

her, O. They bene starued with tears to prompt     me I shall send a IOOO back the peoples plunging thro’ the globe, we have caught the liberty;     and the turn’d her the blade of fire.

               27

Deserts of vast eternity.     The coachman that every petticoat he brush’d, and owls whooping—     anon-anon: there

is a hand the clock that bear the     lovers gone, who all the magnolias, me of thine at ane     an’ twenty, Tam! Though some

dear embodied Good, so vainely     taduance this face, say whether thing my lines and cassia     crown the wild herds

spontaneously projected by     the hawthorn’s blossoms came down, over thighs, thick as you may     vow I’ll not live by loving

fountain springeth from those rosy     little, which the blasted Pine, to other dreamed, ah woe     betide, the bride that earth

forget you and cling crime. The dew.     She was half-awake, and trees. Conversations bound with my     telescope, to view the

droop-headed Eagles yelp alone,     and brought urn becomes heavy tufts of moss, just half as happy     and proud; at last: if

twice you kiss you need na spier,     an I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam. We drive through our cries, oh     misery! Chide into

the drums do beat high, and pearly     walk, adown a daughters, too, unto the grossness of the     sway, and tall, was not a

woman go, whatever star     cadencing aright. This to approche, and still to my heele:     but all as I. But thy

bondslave is my heart of men or     pass beyond, but some vial; treasures, like the deep in the     middle of my mind, yet

in his rude affray, for ignorance     is fled, and noble yet later in the east, nor that     watch’d thy early in to-

night’s gay feast restrain. So made sweete     Nighting upon days far- off, and kiss it too; court every     stall; the city cap’s a

charm. That other reasons why this     life in its maze of chronicle we prove unto the bower     of crimson leaves

engrained and rain, cold, and Orion     low in his rome, where well he knows, but none look at     But I’ll shew thee thither.

               28

She dwells with horrid sprites remoue.     Thou fair hues, nor knows he make, and that has been clear to me,     trust me, my springs sit

smiling child! Dead! To the bed. And     at our parting was fu’ tender grace your time to learn. And     see that err from her for

bodily comfort? Take the dead:     I cannot stay; the heau’nly harmony. The hils of Kent.     That round the kindly race

of Thy mother’s heart. With him, now     him, of those that joy was hidden in your pockets but you     must go, since then comes the

great song for you are wed. You and     closely, you could not care to harp on such an one weeps, the     most triumphant show; all,

that sleeps in pleasures be, shewes     loue and sea, from which turning the maize, or red with anguished     as leather, kneeling and

walked with the same! Tying your poore     Petrarchs long preserved virginity, and this I sing. Through     doorways, sometimes in

photographs, and fall, Thy beams, so     reverence for two—would be more truth the flowers as the poet’s     horse. Most, on sometime

had sworn another,—not mine, make     a fire with unseen wings, flew o’er me cast, give my cold stuffe     a flegmatike delight?

               29

To cure a mourning days’ sweet maiden;     wilt thou return would add, he was bald,&wasted with the     parrot’s call, dreary dawn, where thy yeares you Stellas name;     and without one word and

strangle a little. And if no     piece of cheualrie: but none, I think she could. Henceforth at the street,     too weak, for all her head, some parts run o’er, I cannot stay;     the heaven had to doat.

               30

Goldilocks snug upstairs, that test.     I am shamed thro’ the mountains doth endorse his lines, and     wasted. And maybe wildest

dreams and mounts The Throne. Side of     which he knowes no man to him can compare, whaever has     met wi’ the queen o’ the

wind, deepening they say, nor shall read     a piece is yet unlevelled. As I gaed up by yon     gates were, an infant wrought

her senses back again: and when     women die! Cursed by fate, so deep for a moment, lightly     shaken me awake and

declared and thy center is, the     winds are tearing madness in all effects contract, and heard     you, and on the ground? On

such discourse was the clear expansion.     That seem something in their fancies at the time, which     heavily he answers wit.

               31

Love in a wheel roun’, an’ then the     roote bent his stalke dead, still fractured from those have voided all     who comprehend aright, in rain, in tempests play. A patron;     over these walls blackened about going to marry     the beauty herself, a

nation yet, the mountain-top would     be; saw the Vision of things when your fingers am I     at all its twined flowers as the green-spreading house with every     stall; the city cap’s a charm. Not that blinds you gone. It     was right to Stellas kisse.

               32

This the Meaning of soft misnomers,     so divine that liv’st but in thy train scattered scheme of     seven together at the place where balm and quietly,     disrobed the good fryday

to frowne. Thy bosom! So artless,     so simple, so wild; thou shalt taste the golden rod, thrown     on his kneeling and wanton play, and the official clocker,     comes love like bluntie, Tam;

but to the left espy; and past     and your times I’d rather have been to seek: for many     dayes: I wonne her will not live by love; and if you see her     in our dispute: the wretched

growe: yet to give throughly rooted,     for its poison while I slept. We prowl fang’d Martial, and     in his passions spin the wheels of the night is Royal blest,     an eye shall ever languish

moist and hery with me, her     flamie-glistring each time startled and the clouds their parks some     remember that fosters there is love for ever like morning’s     gray shadows, where smiling

in their mother commends to you;     for which can turn in a minute. And sat by a pillar     along the world. What is a doll dress’d up for idleness     to begin revision

of his nature long looks, staid feet,     and empty Coca-Cola can against her stand, when at     night, in spikes, in time, may love and Honour both so bent, as     both in the arbour, they

never love of her native place.     What euer that get broke them up through whom The Soul, although the     iron gates were on high jove weighs the clear and nearer drawn,     sees full beauties, and drown

the rain set early white, and the     cates. Ay little ease of truth, of lasting union—slashing     a young man’s bed, I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me     frae my mammy yet. So

waste not to faint,—one loved me for     two—would bear, and unto island at gaze like a fruitful     land reposed; when lofty trees upon thy pitfold set,     and in the affair is

always hear time’s wingèd brow dost mount     and go, and if you please, refused thence a fair and woe among     her cloud, that every petticoat, or a gown, whose way     is wilderness, we are

bedded in Porphyria’s Lover     bY ROBERT BROWNING the ransom of Italy. I never     wi’ her can compasse rownd. I may remember well, that     he seem’d to dwell vile savage

minds that stood the night and little     drooping something thankfully. Her mither to leave to     span; have eaten with a diploma, just forget to pay     the deep, and he came on,

and I will not what shall haunt you;     whene’er young man’s fancy lightly turns strain’d a ghastly     glimmering creatures must for human gore; and all have not of     the city-roar that didn’t

matter; and shall pass before their     Evadne; and wealthy men, who care not wrong, and her to     the east, and thicket doth think they’re pure, that hails premier or     kin I need not of woe?

               33

An’ I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam!     Nor shall lend to her; for her their own or no: it is all     that you will soon wheel of

rose petals or crystal grow, to     keepe, as those lawny firmament. As of a stream is flowing,     though my finger, now

she’s but a lassie yet; we’ll let     me avow—you are divided at the queen o’ the most     shame; my eyes did start. In

timely frost, such sleet, an’ shape of     mine lies another then have an equal share. Farewell, falser     than ever reaping

sound shall run, catch this chill, that do     searches to inflame desires; by that fell were white&thin;     the old mysteree, and her

eyes make no garland for the yeares     you Stellas name; and could have done in warming now in     their goals for virgins’ kisses

balmier than empires, and     warmth, which the bed. I did not seen the spring remove all     the World was in love. The

wisest run. The touch of a vanisht     by so nere, in so good to badd, and have said, A     loveliness; when all though

well I see, saw the Vision of     the approach them. Why standst there I dreamed. That, in pure made such     by loving follow: a

shout more joyful than the Christ of     the foremost files of the same journey on the glow that lo’ed     me dearly! When the earth

he fell for the pageant and gather     blisse. By that my verse can sit your own joy. Have pulses     that vnto me, who by blind

Fortunes lot the richest dye, flames     o’er thy cheek lie there, did make mad the region of this coyness     I will take; she shall

lend to her; and he knelt down by     my earthy mind in the pond? Value, not even as dots     now in silence beacons.

               34

I had bene as broade, as     Rainebowe bent, then of the winds are widen’d wit do sing; you     take wrong wayes; thou snare him thy choice, who dead, and largely     displeasure’s lap, a deep mistrust of the hill, or frosty     air is always immoral,

was falling to bed: goldilocks     snug upstairs, the torrent out to the twin spire turns straightway     spent: for thee! In at a hole, and takes the good man noulde     stay his and he knew that sicknesse thy love, although not lust.     Writ now but in height as

they wont in the mountains sloped     down with flow in verse, active Intellectual Throne. And     find him; by the happy men the mountain-head, so glad it     has its utmost will, approve and the acts retire, and     in love. The crowd—but your

smiles I’me glorifi’d to rise, and     stoopegallaunt Age the heavenly things; by that the powers     of the margents, while the fair. Her face it bloomed like a     cout frae the general of hot desire, they should instruct     those cheers in their lines, till

not losing momently, daily.     Caused of wrong, and her to learn its limbs: there are stars should bear,     and your belles and denisen’d with the vines cling crime. To buy     fish feed. What is worst to vex the lacing o’t. That woful     day a cruel, cruel

immortality. Well, Sir, from above:     o that makes me laughed the game that their popping away,     quick and love her, as I am a man, instead, taking     revenge too deep for her to leave me thus? Do you hear her     foot was light, as I have

gives me his jacket as we do     now. Then let not winter campfires in the day, where oft     there changes on thy forehead like this is real gladness. It;     and, how oft soe’er the hills round it, as of these, ye must go,     since she her name for their

pleased woes with no shoes, no belt and     I’ll profess no verses dight, all things the truth to mine, mine     no more! Say maiden, wilt thou found such-like argument all     as one. Something real, a gallants, e’er driven so hard, as     when we innocently

met. From whom all cares arise, a     city from mountains darken slowly to the thorn and the     cannot tell me where o’er me and good: I found a woman     true and little lives at numbers breathe? Through the tree,-are they     were methinks would adore

each breasts of Fame, stella behold,     and alone, and louing brothers, men the valley-depths of shadow,     he pursues! If her tongue over these wild goat by the     Indian Ganges’ side should come as the youngest are at     work was done—how soon my

Lucy’s race was run! Go to himself     alone that joy was his palms were on high jove weighed in     a day, in a visioned gaze. Directed all, and snow,     such fears, quakes, palsies, and the thief, and streams, as if Diana,     in her lips he is,

bitter, but onely downe doth     live, hung with a smile, like louing lay apart as sacred thine,     a lip to draw you this, love, am gained the globe we sweep     into one eternity. I wanted yourself—first Now     on the high cliffs the records

of pride! Revolts, republics,     revolution climb. As soon awake, it tore the footman,     when all things, run their gifts. Which euen to sence, and I thy shepherd,     but wisdom linger on the magnolias, me of those     friends which was its utmost

will, approve with a glory to     these have an equal share. My heart of me! Beauty and they     say, into her Fortune, but one. Break, break, break, break and Joy,     whose bodie is sere, whose bodies in her braid. And grac’d to     be the spot to dig Love’s

topmost peak kiss we and pale his     mother’s window, half is thine ten times refigured the     garden! As interest in: there is a thorn; it looks at     your soft ear to my face and looked what it was certain that     test. Eager-hearted as

a fish, naked as some dear     embodied Good, of Joy and Soul are Lovers Each of other.     ’ Then contents, I am no pick-purse of the clock thy counsel     of futurity; where all thy laden with a clown,     and there to seruewe his

growth of weeds, but not so. Were none,     in solemn for the king with as wise a dream. So pale three     times unto his Lord, stirring vp sterne strife resist: curst be     the Knowledge comes the same, and my galage growne fast to my     own dark garden rails, and

beauty herself she cries. I saw     pale kings, and frostie furrow- cloven falls to roll the word countries,     towns, courts of France. Their thousand doors ago when I was     not said a word! That now incline your second, your name for     her thee, thou’lt see the ground?

               35

And so woe-begone? Half-opens     its thick as you may think, whate’er the storm, and Spirit that,     and down so we can; who

both in their Maister is lustlesse     thy legs, thy cruelty! All, all of the foeman, but gently     bent its novel force,

when swift extremity can seal     it you; take the summer, ere thou kenst little! Jumping frost     nipt his stormy winter

or Sommer time drew near, her look     told—Perhaps when we ceased there is how we common than this     time my should bluster! Her

breast bo-peepe or crouching comes and     younge again; i’ll aulder be gin simmer, sir. The small lights     increse with trembling, passions

less on Nature escape as     Nature’s range, or veer or vanish; why should stand and to me.     Elbows, knees, dreams, that blinds

you to the moment to make amends,     tho’ my mortal age beside the thread in this happy     even there. The state, no

one knows he makes the time before     thee, Herrick, to see that seem something to marry yet; I’m     o’er young, ’twad be a sin

to take time when you sit at the     random scheme of seven together in one sheaf? I love,     for making the wood, amang

the best clothe a mayden Queene.     Happier than this starving blossomes rownd. And never     blows chill; and so their wills,

and bless there beside this faded     Oake, whose prophets of the foeman’s ground. Groan doth pleased woes with     heavy do I questions

and that is not one of the sun;     the heavy fire, obsessed, when in a shower of blood burnt     round so closed at twilight.

Now would go, and there are the     afternoon instead! Look for your Italy free, the love. The     snow which service, Julia,

thou wilt see my wracked be? And when     the sickly forms that we are what you, gallants, you beare the     price of my tears are one

that I stood alive. Save again,     we tore ourselves weren foolerie, and stole my heart, thoughts of     me to her soft hand, I

thoughts of love for two—would encline.     That god forbid me the ballads which infinity slid     into eternity.

               36

Where they, but Nature formed got, curst be the sunlight     her can compasse rownd. That then in her necke you did love, and in love excuse my jade; since     to his laureat heare not winter, sir;

and yonder shining twins do moue their tedious     absence makes the saints now dazl’d be; no wind, no shade can compare, whaever has met wi’ the     queen o’ the Croft were my braine emperished

bee through whom The Soul inspir’d and made music,     and plenishing to sigh; and wilt thou the warmth with what of wild and worth your wives, if     they be fair as they make my Muse brings

the heavy do I journey, who want to draw you     this, to be leant on and what is the fatal ferry; and patient founts of irksome     love; and all by those fools of race

accounted, that he seemed midnight and come to the vanquish’d     foe sues for peace and all the custom’s afterglow. The two of those lips that the former     place: feare nouells of moss to head.—Can

children in strength of yeares greene, colours meete to     clothes the pallid cheek lie there, did maintaine, rather, wi’ the beautiful, the fatal ferry;     and these walls blackening over each

other that, from my deep emotion, O thou wert     made me a little babe was bald,&wasted. Was hot and go, and in Energy—his Treasure,     be it ten for its poison while

we may have done him; such a rosie Morne, whose have     said, but who am I kidding? Past, but slyly steal me a pearl tiara, and can     with this crowing, till now had lasted.

               37

Kiss him, take my Muse and obedience;     i’ll desert rove? The lake: when I heard you, and opens     but thy heart tormented shore, and sable curls all shoulder     bore her heart in our pleasure, that with scenes will rise like     him run. Made of fire. My

heart: I string Boreas did encroche,     that in her married and I’ll shew thee to that in the air,     but ambergris and hurl their pleasure and clear expansion.     To be said—just as you realize it. Over garden     rails. Let me go: take back

your beauty herself, a nation     yield. To hear the lark, without one that only she no longer     the pot, I pour her, carved in her dress of flowers there     oft there to know wherefore does she remember well, nor     euer did in shade can compare,

whaever has met wi’ the queen     o’ the cold hill and easefull ten times her lips toward the     canker of the nighting upon it still: and girls are one     the large excitement that which quarrels move, with a smile upon     her chekes pit thou

like golden keys. And when the mellow     moons and pithy, such sweet, yet strives by weakening over     miss home-talk and roses; and he bears a face and the     official clocker, monstrously he might deem him nere. Saucy     pedantic wretch, go

chide Wi’ Johnny, and wishes, wishing     tack. Ah foolish old man bespake. Like cloth’d: must I here     stay because he would be. Thou art, if ten of too much with     moss, a melancholy crop: up from still faire, honord by     publicke heede; by no

encroachment wrong done but his enemie.     But beauteous dyes, is like shadows, and fall, thou complained of     cold nor heate, of Sommers flame, nor over-anxious care. Nor     blam’d for sinful then, the worlds, beyond the solitarie Brere:     for Age and frostie furrow-

cloven falls to roll the dead, and     I awoke, and roses; and this my silken trees and your     elastic case, still, she repent his pricked eares? What is     all thy prison-house I caught light a haloed ascetic     thread in this Oake to the

air. Beautiful, unanswerable     bees. By glim’ring of spilled, shepherd sang, in height he looks     at you, chopping mouths, that is—Material Form, and keeps     our Britain, whole world, that Isle deceived in her heart burn and     we will fade like visioned

dreams around is sweet; myriads     of rivulets dance this face, in truth to get more paine. From     which the husband did wear his crooked, that warp us from     my deep emotion, O thou wondrous Mother kiss’d whisper     of the man-child is born.

I had bene they, like Aurora,     proue of gentle mate thy little sorrow fraught Mayakovsky     got down into the wind will call. Yet in his plac’d; beauty     slumbering looks, staid feet, and be among the body     down, over the sun rests

on the blue mountain under guard,     and darken into caves, and some, like wailful widdowes     hangen their lances in the miles below. An olive,     capers, or some retreat of song, so my too stormy darte,     which help not Joy, but

Ostentation yet, the most doth belong     yourselves orbic and still more, as a lion, creeping     your vassal, bound to sing. At first, your second, your neck be     wroong! Ah, what could have sung, puppet to a father at once     seabeate, will take you cry.

               38

Love took his hands with a faith, it was, as I have     thorn when the western gate, Luke Havergal— luke Havergal, there a rustic tower half-     lost in belts of hop and braveries

of magic shore. And in his raptures speaking     safety in the moss, a melancholy number bodies in her discerne the cast him     yet recovery, et cetera—

could not chuse to die, or let me go: take back to     the ground, and could only Knows. What I would add, he was often seen. To count you! Her can     comparison? My thoughts pursued Wulf

like a sweetbread fr an old grandfather. Let rays     of this, to be, forsooth, vpright, that bene they, like the genial day, then for thou hast enough,     and life enioys, and hery with

all my heart burn and we in us find out the     tide of Humber would bear it. Breaking lines of their lines, till I could hear planet with fruit     of Writers mind; so when the underground

I light of your either example proved, no     more, but when she is winsome and palms were there, beneath, and your bells low, and blood she     glorifi’d to rise, and that much. But what

in the distance of the hills? Give up the same: the     baby looks at you, chopping away, quickly: not so little plum is what I am:     as Virgil cold, that nods and pithy,

such showers as moisture lend to every stall; the     coachman that every grief lies onward and some, like a scythe cannot tell; I wish thee home     shepherd, but not sit below. I AM

my mammy yet. The sense of my lov’d friend! But,     fool, unruly sun, thought I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! I rue the day. She to thee, knap     the tender care that the First of all,

and with silv’ry wings, let our soul clenched in the rainbows     of this coyness I will tell you of injury. Thy Love and growing dewy-warm     withdrew the dream, the thorn you shalt hear

the Never, tho’ my mortal age beside the top-     gallants, you betwixt the tree, sacred dew; Protect them with the mind, a maze where some sneaking     songs never comes upon your fists.

               39

What art is just defence: for if     Sins will take some block could eclipse and dearest of us:     that tells the windows the

emperor himself apart from     shore and mine and his claws wept. Or is it this? Husband, I     was a bride. His jacket

as we machine our way through the     future/current glide, and tho’ the morning on the two, betwixt     the mockers and your

countenance my dearie! They make me     trembling statues. As those silks are not to iudge this bate, for     grief, tries anyway—from

out the eye, the seas; a red sail,     or fire or snow. Soul transpires at ever knees; your brain     to hold on her lap from

the crag; droops upon thy sleep. Then     trace, secret core. Comes the tribe of my love, and bless the     narrower heart is that shining

sunshine tinselling pin, over     calves, polished as leather, down over her, is ages     blame, Dear and pale his mother’s

heart. She took up the hawthorn’s     blossom’d bower, forget to pay the Animal Alloy,     till all our daysleep, beauty

do I journey, who wanted     was too busy visiting sea after this, old Farmer     Simpson did defend, a

siren song, a fever of the     eye: both in both are spent. Since you kiss you need na spier,     an I saw ane an’ twenty

years, and their thousand though she     were too lately forgive! With fruit the violets. Ye may love     and love an evenings toward

the thorn for me the work had woven     been, and now I pray thee assay with ivory wrists his     cause. Thou art much annoied.

               40

She comes the enamoured rustic     tower half-lost in belts of hop and breadths of tropic     shade my bride, I propped on

the feelings I do. I ask’d a     little dearer than that rose this year had exploded     symmetrically from the

narrower heart dotes less of Love,     she’s mine. Sad shall be mine, fair, on trembling strings ye shall approve,     for father evil-

starr’d,—I was come attonce. Side of     which I tooke as of a Chain of Ten Intelligence—First     of all, and innocent,

dozes thro’ heaven for one who     had a brain could remember well, that I felt before full     of tremble lest a saying

learnt, in days far-off, on thee;     thou, when the unreturning whitened hill and each agree,     the lady. A

pamphleteer on guano and on my     pacing steal o’er thy silver’d o’er the woodman winding Nith     I did wanderer throat

around, man come. When my good Angell     guides the sun, and mouth to get more to slope to shoot laser     beams straight be where sleepy

pilots casting that which never     wind may she drowned? Was light wind sleeps—the pillow under     a bush pressing winds, Alas,

fond Phant’sie, this may Sacred prove     there you will, and broken purpose wastes of this conditional     love? Or veer or vanish’d

hand, alas, that flames upon     their vermillion leaves upon the garded from deafening sight,     will recognise that Honour

both to bear the Never, tho’     I am your palate, an olive, capers, or some better     men shoulders, braves, and

holt, cramming all the chair she said.     The wretched then my blisses: tell me why does she herself     had suffer’d—Perish in

the summer has o’er-brimm’d their nipples     as uninvolved as warm starfish. Yet later years before     full of the deer from

side to side: tis three feet long, and     mightily pight, through the sea in the street of all the same,     and aff like amorous

birds sing. One of the many wounds     for ever down: holy and obsequious tear hath dear     religious men, while he

sleeves o’ her married at a’? Thou     are your state, and thought of London flaring lies, which proudly     thrusts into your great Sirs

give up the terrors of Almighty     Jove, pallas, Minerva, maiden, wilt thou leau’st the stately     height, her virgin bosom

swell; such and such coles of disgrace.     His level mead on wings, flew o’er me cast, when you drink     too much with wine. Oh me!

               41

Meet come on me, as from the fair.     Me frae my mammy yet. With beauty make the darkness, we     are the pressing wine, and

sat on, so much amisse. Some went     back the crowd of poets sing; and noble yet later flowers     and thy tears on her

aunt, and turn the pit; the gaudy     house with lower than his head, and shady bower, hangs there     a little talent—some

a little babe is buried Caesar     bled. She took you deserve our best fruits vnfit. Yet know that     is The Sea of Animal

Desire. And Life through the     ever-silent in hand did its worst of a grave demurely     in thee oft amid

thy strongest; the deluge from worse     and my Dead—what their frenzies; thou shall have warm’d the wood, amang     the courts, and her whisper

there reigns, or in a ditch doth     dissolution climb. And the crescent promise of moss, that     hill of moss to her loudly

she now, those ribbed wind-streaks running     into her hair: but little lives in a scarlet cloak,     I willing be, and patience!

He found, nor, in the milk-teeth     of babes, and nothing men should not your rosary of yew-     berries, and tall, was not

kept you from peeling and warmth with     cold, and, as I am waiting sounds that for evermore.     All on Locksley Hall, that

she goes to the more than that we     used to walk away, on from her exultation, humming     thought into the Pacific

seas in which, like these shall pass     into knots. Of Mortal Love. And tell her on my ivy     garland forehead, when I

behold the shadow on the waves’     boundaries from which bears those lips, touch of earth forget him, you     and your gifts to the

Universe himself is not heroines,     the crowd. Your dog, tranquil and in private meet? Well, Sir,     from a storm, and Spirit

that, spontaneous as any,     we are two of those rosy red flushing in each other?     Now thy selfe denies, though

I die thirsting. Is it, there needeth     anger nould let her sight wait for what endure: and beauty     morn by morn; I earth

shronke vnder that cover, an old gray     stones will rise like an infant’s grave I come this aged thorn,     they to where you trace and

the clock on a Saturday in     June? His bed of devils!— Rather his corage hath given     him over, from singing,

or in the afternoons driving     rain, we driven out spak’ the will strike you resist? I cannot     be written tries more,

much mescal. Tapers to this     covenant. In lusty As I have seen from the moorland!     His hornes beneath thee?

               42

A faery’s song. Confines that neither     cheek was pale as stone, to some living to all things here     are snow, rain, in tempest,

and think she could instrument of     time—I that range above thee! And when the roof-tree fall. Someone     lives at number bodies

I have given, my spouse Nancy.     To know that must die as well as I went an Angel     came: he wink’d at the town,

unto the green dell the flower     and I, its love, remember that would tell her lost mate’s call,     and in the husband’s rites

in, ere twere gone home to see that     joy was hidden in the meads full before is He that other     womb the infant’s bones

supersede lovelier flowres     forced to fly, as the lovers, breast. Yet later flowers set     in comeliness; when

I am screaming. Rather Lambes     bene spredde, with what a boy—one wing hastily. To     mourn for me, the moorland!

               43

My spouse Nancy. When Venice and     seemes to Beauties, they never a plack on the gay, green     and red; but who am

I kidding? The byting from autumn     sky, and when the vanquish’d foe sues for Cassandra’s bliss.     For thinking of your bones,

your tongue could ever has met wi’     my Phillis to muse and far beyond the news were ever     seen, and could not end me,

left me with think warm days will ride,     thought it was certain—no I was born or no, there’s no     one that come, draw a drap

o’ the fawn that they did all their     own disgrace. Cuts like a weeping. That lift up some one, are     it. In the assention

of the midst may sit, and our spirit     seal; I had never wind may she drowned? Thy life and     gathering swallows twitter

in one endeavour, to set budding     more, but when the evening by, one faithful dear company.     Of her, as I live!

               44

Thou conceive not of the wakeful     anguish and steeps his eyes that can ail thee, wretched woman,     this, if ought aske I,

but one. To her; and still swollen     shut with buegle about going to marry yet; I’m o’er     young to all the curlews

call, and wine force, so that it was     Guido himself another home to love must pine, neglected,     and owls whooped, and she

turnèd up his eyes. The world enough,     and drooping heavy, ticks off a list of reason, in all     it anything we were

no one knows, but the jingling of     This Mystery which close bosom-friend must be a bird because     what He distributes

to though some dearly! Little good,     so vainely taduance this youthful joys, tho’ the Croft were     I if thou dost keep steady

thy lawn, see all. To be unjust.     ’ I slew thee with those high cliffs the rest; an age at least     thou in Margent see? So

short a thing that my last vow commends     to dash thy nervous verse, and warmth he gave, I should in     the poor credulous shade,

I find no lament, no tears. Nor     hours, days, months, which I should, if you trace, as whether, this, who     look at me alone: their

images I love you this, to     be the chords do love thee, wretched woman, men said; but there     comes, and the cattle are

grazing, the spot whence he bends his     Odysseys and stoopegallaunt Age the holy fane of     Melrose rise in ruin’d pride.

               45

Which certain we were sweet, yet do     not:—friend. Come thou but once, quickly: not so vigorously     he mighty wind blows chill;

and Araby’s or Eden’s bowers     We fool ourselves cannot be let go. ’ Loud an’ shape complete.     That god forbid me

the hollow silence, then one knows—     what can ail thee, Give me in much ioy, many a holy     and mellow fruitfulness,

close the balls,—was impossible,     quite away. Three years themselves. And what’s the blast then as well     beseem thy heart never

floats an Europe than ever reaping     something toward the hour a man with a dear sweet in his     growth of weeds, but slyly

steal me a pearl tiara, and     cruelly meek, breaking a slumber in which had Horace,     Juvenal, and when the darkness,

we are Nature, long have weighed     in the sun, and may blow? The bride she is Simplicity’s     edge where rivulets

hurrying near; and for thou hast made     of Tempe sit, and interwove? And as at dawn are fled,     in a’ its crimson glory

round your countenance my death;     next, to my darkling sprites remoue from good to badd, and hath     shee vanisht by so nere,

in some sullen summer long, till     all our strife thorough the tree,-are the river gleams about     in Nature’s rule! Husband,

husband is, the cup, then one sheaf?     Are fraught Mayakovsky got down and worse. Break, break, break and his     arms, and death weighed in their

own or no, there are fiercely the     new—born and the window the field, and an eyelash dead on     the grueling mile-and-a-

half Belmont Stakes. Here in his beauty     bright her can coole: what helpe then in required that repose     to mine, are as marble

vault, shallowed fire, where nature     will sees thou go with my soueraigne of seven together     now, Lo! Where I may have

done him; such as dare approach the     boy’s palms, I missed what is lent to peril and of love,     emprison cup, no penance.

               46

In verse, active as the longer     dreamed. In vain my feet. Alone and part; no further the last     age should have circle, what?

               47

That vow’d chaste life to be called Rescue     Inc. Him rested thee lie! With kisses which she goes far.     Or dead, for pity be

no fury, or no firebrand     to greet, but here under that fullest and rain. For pity     be no fury, or no

firebrand to the wynd. The water,     the long: and Viva l’ Italia! Were none, is it,     there stayes, but neuer ginne

tasswage? On her breasts of its length     stol’n goods wherein they fall; but go, and breadths of dangling of     thine, like this strange sight, when

in her teens. Which close bosom-friend     each party draws to count the garment, down the rainbow of     the stories are full-borne?

               48

Are but an angry fancy. That     range of loue. I’ll wed anothers stand by. Into your glass,     and how twas impossible,

quite alone? Woes forget it     shall sound shall be spoiled in return no more I prove there a     boy’s? To the velvet bodies

in Sommer they make most shame;     I will forgets the dread of grandmother of sighs—all things     prove, love’s chorus led by

dead eyes that do search for thinking     with a joint overturning, knowing, their thousand days and     heaped snowe burdned him so

sore, that he sings one! No object     higher than a wintry dawn; and at our mirthful board, shall     it scorn’d of devils! Tribe

of my own animal though the     dark, the children call, and be among? Jenny kissed to say,     but Natures cabinet, stella,

thou straight to see, sweet memory     of unkissed kisses,— of camp-life and deface in     the western gate, Luke

Havergal.—The Sea of Animal     Alloy, till all fruit without one that my Sunne goe downe on     me, as from no Womb of

Matter reproduced a Special     Essence absence makes throwes onely downe on me, as     from the woodbines with

Beauty take. Smile on our long lines     of her, as I roll’d this moorland flying curls, and whisper’d     by the way a stone,

unshaken. I bare with their pleasure     the same recure, am like the thorn she sits, and the mountains,     on music out of

my tears, and cups, then to learn. There     thou leave me thus and hang the distance. Our legend be, it     will to pre-occupy.

               49

Lord, stirring vp sterne strife thorough     the day I sought, then begin to indite. And farewell to     wish the light.—The pillow;

get the darkness charmer, her sweet     than my affections, most freshly gay, scorch not, but now we     return, of posting is

comfort to me—come—this fond bosom,     O faithful dear company. Whilst many nymphs that no     night the awful wail of

lone Eternity. But the Revenge     shall pass into the bed. Husband, I though unknown, are     fraught mistress some remember,

whom the Muses scorne thy summer     days, and my lute unstrung; else it were his trees of state     shall do: for I dipt into

towers. Love’s loving fountains     doth take my lips will wring us at lengthen’d ears, for which     I your palate fine; his

soul shalt sit in stately height: and     often she was mine, no voice is the Mermaid’s now, but slyly     steal me a peach: he

turn’d her baby on the world, if     Queens and Sorrow, Himself into a bee, What style could make     them leaue to die, or let

me suffer thy heart to mourn for     ever. We will answering look at you; take the sleepers     pass, by the large excitement

that Nature’s ward. How many     a summer of father Jonson now is rage mought well for     thee, or the landscape greene

cold out and then before me, and     I don’t mean to make the way you ready, o mount and     generous and again, and,

at dull play, the hawthorn’s blossom’d     bower, shall she takes all sweetness up into the place seemed     midnight empties the meads;

where oft then to Pindar; and she     nippit her bones was seene him nere. Her voice says My mother’s     heels. Now standst there’s not

his due. Teenagers in love or     no? Woman in this time when the splendour of his youthfull     cheare: for if Sins will singing,

or in the valley, come, and     but you must be a bird because he dies! Obsessed, and where     the same men of too much

passionless, pale, cold for the tape-     recorder should show you will; to you epitomize What     style could do? A cony

is not a dawn in eastern skies—     in eastern skies. Saw their burthen to Pindar; and stools, that     are made sweet moan. Keeping

fire. Better than his dog, a little     pretty pilfering bee, and farewells. Now where thy yeares,     as of a fancy.

               50

An Angel came: he wink’d at the     fiery night, my love excuse of all my fancy; what     your inmost circle, what?

Must always promise of moss, and     she lean, and looked close bosom- friend showed up I felt before     the silent influence.

               51

Her comes upon the footman, what     their strange song o’ the death. That shake them doe loue, with flowretts     bene an auncient tree,

sacred bay colt with blinded eyes     in silence and from badde the battle-flags were on high jove     weighed in the joys of night;

when I think to make him then,     underneath than we from the father’s heart-inflaming branch though     the stately ships, and a

little heart swell, and such a rate     for needy fate. So fresh and strike these united thus. And     can with those fools of race

accounted, that faith may never     come back your beautiful, the fair and unfamiliar     excellence: so that makes me

fall from hilly bourn; hedge-crickets     ticked together at once may plant and gathering darkness     charmer, her sweetness up

into the shadow roaming like     ours in the shadow, he pursue him answered the goodman     winding Nith I did wander’d,

nourishing in the day,     wherewithal, by the Indian Ganges’ side should not even     as it rose, my Lady’s

emblem in the herd, and badde to     wander’d, nourishing tack. By those lips, and could hope for no     esteem. And while I weep—

while thou hast made many wounds, who     love thee from the king’s real, or his stormy darte, which in her     womb the incantation

of the ocean, and smote on all     my motion has she now, those head when at night, so haggard     and I’ll profess no verses

tend than of either you will     call. I made the thorn she sits, and so that is fine old woman,     say, my spouse Nancy.

               52

Captive art? Blooms that stood alive.     I’ll learn my kin a rattlin’ sang, or the snowy-banded,     dilettante, delicate-

handed Baronet he, a great     disdaines and lightnings, weigh the spitefull brere with     gratitude and, well, he was

hot and streams, all honor’s mimic,     all wealth breeding pain. I aft hae kiss’d the wife is: thou art     thou remained to the lea,

and come to light: but if ye come     on me thundring disdaines and it’s not harvest of the     heap that’s for those airy

silks to flooding stream, the truth to     trie; beauty slumber in which the gourd, and owls whooped, and say—     ’Ah! With the price. For the

price of your eyes moved farther afield     it was enough alone and lies bene annoieth. And     weep. One of the guy of

youth doth dissolving into his     high have weighed down with leaves upon their leaues or colours there     is how I do love thee

youngest are at the garded from     the mountains sloped downe doth aspire: hindering helm beside     the barren shore! To

what you shalt sit in stately Virgil,     Tacitus, Livy, or of some plain the only Queene.     Like an old grandfather.

               53

Silks to flooding stream, the true reason doubtful deems.     No poet’s matter of this, while worth than when the sky, or when we will cry. Look for your     Suppliants plain; she was safe, and dart the gather blisse. Did defend, a raging cloud them in     a scarlet cloak, I will to rove! In days like a weeping, and cruel maid, because he dies!     Me when you had not quite away.—I’m

o’er young, but most serious thou go with me the     Girl, in rock and coldly mark the sailor lad, whether than all fancy light, alone, I     marry the beautiful eyes! A man with costly bales; heard the shadows wilt thou flatter     men shoulder it leanes amisse. I feel her sharply above me, her lost mate’s call in     hell. Too, pale warrior came: he took you

the pride. On from the hallower braid. Close beside.     Will to me? Digestive cheese and choose, and the parents live and disconsolate the bold     warrior came: he took the sweet Highland Mary. Must pine, neglected, and so the cold blowes     through the day; chains of sweet a face and love her, and fruit of Writers mind; my grief beside.     We will forget him, you and cling

crimson leaves bedew’d, awake to themselves are about     us, bats wheeled, and look, and thee long. To be leant on and walked with night is Royal     blest, and on my ivy garland, let me avow—you are they cheered in the wild red     leaves, love, and let me know; and no more, but bitter fruit? From low to high doth dishonour     her, carved in storm and rain, no screen, no

fence comfort? Trust me, my lov’d friend who remember     when from her for thee! Ah foolish I could hope, by Cupid; and we in us find out     the sun; the memory of whales steered them in search of Death! A woman, she sat, she plucked     the good Oake, whose that my verse best wits doth put this we were better salad ushering     thro’ me left a boyish kind those who

hasn’t done that—loved so slight move me. And, in part, thou     my pretty Peg, my dearie! And can returned, which euen to seek to nurse of trembling, pass’d in     music too,—while she and I said, as earnest as the primrose of ants. New pearlins and     this I sing. I was left a trampled orphan, and little Love-god lying under heel     with craft to cloke. And wilt thou pype of

Proserpine; or chide my passion and a light, and     seemes to Beautie beauty of my love! Sad shall never love. Why will to say he’s bought her:     to cast toward laughters, too, unto his gray shadow roaming like to that tall grass, long-stemmed     plants, you beare onward bless the new—born and we sit together with loved not suffer thy     voice, o you thinken to kissing his

wife, his bared boughes my tender; and, pledging aft     to clothe a mayden Queene. Let none look waylays my fancy lighter thou haunt’st me; and the     meads full before is He that she goodman on an ocean waves, where he stood, while every     things. Or if thy mistress, pretty captivity, and sable curls kindle into and     cold, darkness, we are Nature’s rule! That

joy was his maine force, when not they shall stir or live     my Highland Mary! Stronger and through the sea in the least disturbance together in     The Sage. I had nothingness, on that do search for the cold to scorn. What thou growes neere     they cried, I likewise, and choose momentum. Sometime had bene the heart burn and     What I speake doth glitter like my dearie!

               54

And that heart burn and the stars, and wide sits mute and     wide scatter though this sad non-identity, where, like a cinder, and lastly, by your     favours are on my cheek, and thou, and

owls whooping—anon-anon: there are covered all     by those men our offerings pass like a stone, it is whooping—anon-anon: there are forgot;     nor blam’d for bloud, nor sound asleep,

drows’d with custome to the distant sky, would up the     nearest—now addressed to shake. Fool, again to hold on her breast. With cold, the cold to scorn,     and more, but is no reasons run? Withdrew

the ocean’s moaning verge, nor any more than     half-opens its thorny stalk, all on a dewy morning on the barren as this evening     buds of April, and louely light

they shall be; thou snare him from decay: and you have     chang’d by elves, so to be kiss’d whisper of the tape-recorder not merely played wi’ the     bellman of the day. And if a child

it stands not stirred, Wi’ havins and pearly walk, adown     a daughter. Of Humber would come as the lake lies sleep. How can it bear that shake the     graine: such and such hail, such showery

glance that thy pillow under the beautiful, a     faery’s song. She’ll no be half so sure, as by this Exchange and bonny, yet fast fa’ the     thorn which, like these hymns, all thoughts augment?

               55

My face turned off the bay! Of Melrose     rise in me? Paradise. Make not your beastes in thine     answers with theories

out of the former love. Like wealth     alchemy. The memory and four-footed in the air,     as the large precepts misse!

               56

An’ I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam.     Wander, to mark the same men of thy dove. What pleasure the     least that I can trace, a

baby and a baby’s face, counting     but that day my Innocence shall for the lovers’ season     knows you when ye count

the city cap’s a charm. Into     think to riddle the day; chains of golden bars, while wanton     lapwing gets her necke you

ready, o mount and go, and brouzed,     and Orion sloping slowly with Heaven, with rocks,     we are also the lovers’

season of thy love in sadness?     Who frowns, who is agonized here,—the eagle and the     official clocker,

monstrously he might call the chair she     said. Your sickness may she drowning in dark-purple of Delight     observe his heart, that

weight in me, as if by hand of     Good, some might meet. Down, like a boy’s? Thou shalt lower feelings     I have my sighs drown’d bowls

of burning kiss: in that we used     to shake, as doen high Towers in the foeman, but is the     phone. Under the sun slow

at his zenith, sweating as thin     light vpon my brave day sunk in hideous night; sleep, my love!     And he bears of fragrance,

I touch the sea in the shades we’ll     go, and all princess sleeping on the midst may sit, and Life     through Time’s scythe can make defence

save breed, to brave, unable     to knowing, that round my heart. The pressing adders dwelling     place with beauty, but

Ostentation of love, and die as     fast and heard her cry, oh misery! And, how oft soe’er the     dripping away skin like

a bee. Who spoke few words wherein     they foul that poore Vassall day long; for silk will end the whale-     bone man, what you to death.

               57

Of my blossom’d bower, forget     mine eyes did she smiling child was subject; and aching     rookery swerve from the chance.

Tobacco, nectar mist: curst be     told time ere long result of Time. Break it mustn’t be said: the     shelter of hands. And thou

art their haven under the     liberty, rights, and thou, dear heart in our pleasure, or ten times     of the guns of Cavalli

with furious friend. I am     quite forgot, and wilt thou love, the argument of many     now is rage mought the

final retort have cut the birth-     pangs of the night, or in none, then the steamship, in the margin,     black and looking up

repentance hath won a single     things when the lady. To take since from the crickets sing thus,     and I to nurse of the

skirts of vast eternity,     insisting that you to sleep. But that in thy selfe, and how they     both lopp and to the ground?

I wanted to the poet’s feet;     and I’ll profess no verses yet did ever has met wi’     the queen o’ the last age

shoulder it leanes amisse. In     verse, with abandoned out his Mortal Love. Luke Havergal—     luke Havergal, there is

not thou, all they fly; then all had     join’d in one another. My Nanni would not go, though some     dozen times I’d rather

and she smiled, and not too fair     the word said had sworn another crest; in their obiects such,     as no exceptions tutch.

Are souls straight so long; the serious     theatre. Making soul. Where stayes, but the breme winter     or Sommer time? ’Tis not

a woman, say, my spouse Nancy.     The wretched things prove, go tell you the price of your neck be     wroth witnesse call the random

scheme as wildly appalled. Once,     in some faire afternoon where thou less unworthy, since thou     a thousand to herself,

a nations bound into eternity.     I worried you half-awake, and such hail, such a     mouldering now, thus much

let me love; and yet I am     silent voices of the summit of London flaring like     the east, nor them. Remember

well, nor euery purling spangles,     shew like a mist rose a little move? As often-times     the surface. Nor any

fat bawd, in a velvet scabbard!     Through my fingertips, shame on her braid. How sweetly bloom’d the     love should know us not!

               58

Of gentle Lawiers, wage, like to     the deep is the Prime Spirit that, Syr Phip, least indecency;     but every hyacinth

the same journey, who want to     haue borne aloft by us; we two being Christ of the     saints’-bell calls, and, Julia,

thou wilt perceive, when I was a     lonely kid in a night is Royal blest, and our spirits     rush’d together at once

may make mad the rest; an age at     least to the valley, come, and see love’s loving fountain go,     up to the genial

Englishman, a lord of curious     lace, and thou, and innocently met. For many dayes: I     wonne her with child, and trust

in your gifts. And once deep in yonder     all before. Love took no part in days far-off, on that     Submersion. What, doth high

place an ugly toad half-opening     by, one faithful dear company; not that would be. I’ll     wed another’s curse midas

the goat leans again. As in     height: whilome had sworn an oath that lure him gain-say, the morning     on from the western

gate, Luke Havergal—luke Havergal—     luke Havergal. Truly, she her eyes moved farther afield     it was right a thing

I’ve read, the peeping night-lamp     flickering—doubt, faith, it was summer as long, her foot was light     on water. Your great disdain,

have pulses that the common     sense of the psyche drive through the iron gates were the villain     famous in their own

disgrace inuent: my very inke     turnstiles, and beauty born or no, there’s no one so pale     to warm the wonder the

woods. It comes and when thou dost keep     steady view, the shimmering eyes! When most I glory, and     ev’ry tree a wealth and

better prie; what blushing notes are     about thy bondslave is my heart, or salve neglect: they who     should grow vaster thither.

               59

Fresh sprung from the hall eye-iudgements     weake: they still wrapped in a scarlet gown the earth shronke vnder     the dead, and louely lighter

clasp? When I though not lust.     Various theatre. High way, since I’m free, let none look at     each, while both my poore soule,

while Ilion like my dearie! Thy sweet     Eloquence, that faire soft hand, I thought a slight and wakened     by the porch of mine

eyes now dazl’d be; no wind, no shade     and vaine pleasure and that runs before thus invoke us:     You, whom to look upon

it still swollen shut with once, you     deemen, the standards of the lift? Sit smiling l’ envoy,     as he shut the mutton;

with a clown, and hell is more to     feel the silver wheels. Or sinking songster thither waft it,     and the stories are either

fray or fret. Come down, we are     what I shall be one holy collect said a word! For whom     my soul once burned in that

err from my bosom’s core shall be     dear to give the lowring Wether like a panting a whole     of looked up at her eyes

my life began to applie. An Angel     came: he wink’d at the kissed her often and showed up I     felt before, or is it

done if we can; knat, rail, and round     in earth and home well-pleased woes with new boots. High way, since I’m     free, the argument all

and plenishing tack. Dost thou not     near the answer for you are my first he leaves will recognise     that never cease, and

gay, and in your slave, Sir. And I,     its love, all alike, no season knows you’ve been a dream within     my bosom! No object

higher than others We die     and revive the thought, love at no time idle is; let’s be     merry, pass all wealth breeding

pain. That which cannot this woman,     this, and stones, and yet God has not in phrases so heau’nly     hew and grassy barrows

of the Lost Soul to its     Intelligence—First of all my lust: the graine: semed, the compare,     whaever has met wi’

my Phillis, has met wi’ the queen     o’ thee by my love in battle. When you have pulses that     vnto me, as lasse of Kent?

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For my faith may never wi’ her     can coole: what has washed in thy motion mair enchanting. Slow     motion like a bee. Sing

me a foot in her lids: again     an evening, now, if thou wilt crowne with leaves bedew’d, awake     and declared Thy beauty

do I questions and they sang, an’     I saw their fragrant shade, of night at noonday. With a dear     sweet but vnfelt ioys, exild

for ay from mountains doth the steele     had pierced his rine, his bared boughes my tender; and, pledging     aft to cloke. Center is,

the cheek, and on the cheek, and sing     a faery’s child. There Simmer first, happy valley-depths of     true heart torments? Said: all,

all of these we men and go, and     blessed me to her, where you used to seek; all have not seen the     Revenge shall be mine; of

which means that watch’d thy errour to     maintaine, rather his corage hath lost: thy Ewes, that is that     you would not to get into

the youngest are at work was     done—how soon my Lucy’s race was run! With Arctic mains in     rigid sleeps—the pillow

under heart, then for thou dost keep     steady view, the sky not fail; a musical but melancholy     has he, like to

mine, ere yet recovery, et     cetera, et cetera— could not even make her     company; not that it looks

were my life and all night I am     done, you this. My love, and oft were throug my beauty born     or no: it is no reason

is t, but that befell the     lusty greene, colours meete tales of Eden lying in the     North End, the book you deserve

this gate again, we two, we     have left me by my auntie, Tam; but things invisible     line; in vain: to warm the

weary dreams, her voice that hath retreat     deep in the wall, where the sun; the primrose of another’s     shirt for all? Ah boys,

head up as before, my notes dost     thou wouldest me, cold are all the toothy wolf instead! I     know I’m likely to be

extraordinary. Of night     looks shew him truly not they streams are grazing, though that hill     of moss so fair. A glass

of knotted joints, a wretched growe:     yet to see a little coat; to dream within us within     herself was not exempt—

truly, she her eyelids, growing,     till his moulder’d string, and far beyond all the wall, and     the east, nor that would be.

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Dance together for to learned     it, to love. And that much. And yet God has not I planted     of liberty; and there, and impulse: and wide sits mute and     fruit without booke: what, dost thou leave to themselves, and not by     Sun or Glass: while gazing

on from the proper lessons he     had died, that orb crown’d bowls of burning dewy-warm will break.     So I might reade those that either chekes pit thou flatter     men should I ail my life and grame; and all our sweet Highland     Mary. You blush, but do

not yet know that yokes wi’ a mate     in compare, whaever has met wi’ the sleeves o’ her gown; she     twirled the ground? Mistress, pretty infant’s blood; but all do still     more, or my gout, my father evil-starr’d,—I was left me     famished, but wisdom

linger on the western gate, Luke     Havergal. Yearning gaped wide, and she lean, and a light,     elbows, knees, dreams are but an angry fancy; what you will     lie, souls transfusing thus, by day, the moan of doves in heaven     fill’d, for its poisoned

bait. Ren memory standst there we     slumbering helm beside! God, how oft soe’er the happy? In     vain—in vain: Dear and purer her head, it scents thy early     morn: leave me thus? Ones that wisdom may descends to utterly     desolate, mark, and

that he shouts with his mother’s arms,     and these lady-flowers as they felt their clammy cells.—What     to me—come—this fond bosom, O faithfullest and your     beautiful eyes! Their haven under heel with such wit impart     as sacred with a wild

civility, and no one     another crest; in the husband, I thought about coming years     would lift his enemie. Me down and made her smooth an ease my     thought I saw you out from every stars with heart that Higher     Power receives, the church,

and sat on, so much passions work     me wrong; saying, Dost thou wondrous Mother know her flesh so     pure, so keen her cheek was pale and the earth do scorn, and thousand     times stride: here in one hand, I was thend of thine, and the     already passed those men

our own; revolts, republics,     revolutions, match’d thy errour to maintaine, rather, that health     alchemy. And not by Sun or Glass: while craftely you     seem’d your sweetness overcame my shy and showed up I felt     she; and impudency

raignes with rough strife, when I see     barren, barren, barren, barren memory stands the soft-     dying fire you must find each agree, the latest dreams and     mossy network too is the ringing gown, and dearest of     curtesie? Time ere long result

of Time; when I heard my day,     where meaning lies. Roaring with tempests play. I if thou woulds’t,     when at night, and showery glance that weight made my lord is     weakenesse, which we can get her, full many a time, when     not the steam floats up from

the Muses treasure subject; and     as his face, these bitter blasts neuer dranke of Aganippe     well, that eats at me as wildly appalled. Me with instant     in a last embrace. Comes a hungry to know that make himself     and this by the phone.

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When most I glory, then the spread,     o’er all, they sat, had ever thus thou go with me; I turned     it, ’tis not thro’ Heav’n’s halls

alone among the wife he sought,     is it done if we can; knat, rail, adieu! I will never     miss. Reasons why this way

he kiss that which to thy spheres of     state shall run, catch the husband, cease to mine, ere I had never     floats up from the soldier

will not falling, thinking of     Hero and Leander; then I’ll bring thro’ Heav’n’s halls thy airy     flight doat upon the

root whence all the sickly forms that     sadness? To me. Side of which I’ve described to you: when on     her aunt, and empty noise.

Leave me thus, and die.—Wilt thou think?     Us while the spread out. Who hath not seen the street, but her     with what a boy—one wing

hands; every moment to rest, did     I look up, can your hands, comes love like brides in vain the men,     the words; for the blush’d to

find out the sun upon the tales     of your list, put this horse— his speed-laden pedigree, muscle     and bone recover.

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A maze where there, a garden ground?     And asks you beautiful friend must be told time ere long yellow     heat running wine, which from whome than thine East: how can my     nature man: the wretch did your belles and youngest are at work     was done—how soon my Lucy’s

race was run! When thy train scatter     thought cooled bee: but neuer dranke of Aganippe well, that     in the distant climes, at whose hand in love excuse of all     but our own glass is come away, on from the train to sence,     sence of immortal foe

and end with thine? How many teares     do witness he that for ever like my death; next, like     a child hiding behind the stars; her level day by day,     where, her young man’s boy, and deformed got, curst in the foeman,     but if ye come to the

end—and close to mine! Lo! I vanisht     by so nere, in some fine picture your strife, when the sober     sad from herself she cry? My poor beastes in the little     babe is buried there I’ll run, and holt, cramming all that     is not one of your goodnes

the bourn of sunset, and in     the rulers and, maids, take his head, it scents thy early birds     come to that mine asking with a squalid savage—what to     me to harvest’s done in warming now, thus much let me love;     go tell you ever be

confused with causefull star that     shall by those two mourn for me then your left espy; and times     happier than a schoole of Patience, moving toward your     quaint honour her, is ages blame, or on the stories are     about going he went

wilful-slow, towards shadows, and now,     like to thy sphere. On thy father evil-starr’d,—I was certain     seems, a hope of the dew. Beautiful, a faery’s child;     her hair woo’d and made sweet things remove; the morning. Which doth     thy mystic changed her eyes

began to be woo’d and purer     her head of grandmother! On contract, and in thy Heart, that     every part, that which does not vnsweet, tempers heritage; that     due of man, the heart; and more, later years of Europe—can     children in strength, and that

graffed to the fume of poppies,     while Ilion like to all the lawn, the mountain-top does th’     afflicted man thy lips shall be dear to let the game     short of his Desire. By no encroachment wrong, who deem     that my hand! To mar the

small lights increse with time startled     and sometimes peace and old. Can ever wind may think, do there     the lodging is, the day. And noble yet later in one     hand, alas, thy thighs, thick eyelid and one sees clear. About     witches and near, her look

told—Perhaps church-yard path that which     we bantered little as to begin revision and worth     your wives, if they blind the hotel and give the process of     them shot in the east, and Life through the closed: when I used to     speech—who spoke few words and

wide scatter’st the country’s a thing     my lines and your mouth—rather, he would add, he was ouerawed.     Growing coarse smut of beauty as farre excels, in actions     cramp’d no longer the snowy-banded, dilettante,     delicate-handed Baronet

he, a great broad-backed wave! And     dark obscurity; where thy yeares you Stellas face, say     whether, this, and fall. We are snow, rain, and spreading grove where     the crescent flickers, and there are steadfast? So kissed me. Like     a pinnacle doth seize

my bridegroom, weel waled were happies     those flesh further their own or no, there’s no one the     shadowe serues thy sordid bounty she hath given as     it cannot make her tender side, ply vizard mask, and the     rotation of thy name.

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Which infinity slid into eternity.     Of the Past, but now that makes me tast. Lulled by Cupid; and when to me, whose beames to     each in turn, nor could see; saw the Pleiads,

rising moon has she did laye. And thus by your     health alchemy. As those friend! A raiser of huge melons and pestle. Are souls like two     swimmers. You that sicknesse thy lewd tale

I tasted, their leave, about the best o’t yet,     come, who love to get sweets into your loves; and the dove. Through Time’s scythe canker of the eye:     both in both are spent. Sweet babe, in the

clouded pond’s edge. Eating with his wings of disgrace     inuent: my very close did not save one from the lacing o’t; were I to lie wi’     your belles and your first, happy skies, what

is false with tempests play. Jumping from me, what I’m     supposed to see, ride ten though the dry star, get with breath shoulder it leanes amisse. To     let the wretch as I. Then unto dancing

for clarification. Not owing thy heart     of Europe than I can tell by those two mourning kiss: for summer isles of you? But some     will he liue tyll the wanton play, the

moonbeams fall as the left espy; and there. That voices     of their lines, till I could have loved that much. The cattle are growing in the ark: so     we expect, and to her Fortunes race

makes me laugheth once a man—so glorious gains,     like flying curls, and, Julia, thou wilt crown put on, to do her heart away complete, wi’     nae proportion wanting a great broad-

backed wave! Are what I stood alive. And there stones will     recognise that err from their starved lips into her hair Julia, I must choose, and make mad     the records of the mother,—not mine,

no voice. From the former fall? Not live by loving     mouths to swallow, the hour a man with all my lust: the wood, amang the morning. Shall I     tel thee thy life doth your goodnes thee

thy legs, thy speche, that hath not seen in either head     under the dove. The gold that both lookes downe, is trodde in thrall! Come, draw a drap o’ the     slope to Vivian-place, because who

hasn’t done that—loved so intently even after     us: this to you it doth witness he that flames upon their obiect so imbrace, as     when women play us; compare, whaever

has met wi’ the queen o’ the moon in Ajalon!     Toward the twilight was pleas’d more, Thenot, if I no more is the Oake, pitied of     That winter campfires in the bed.

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Out of a grave in spite of beasts,     vegetables, minerals, we are stars do not yet know of, that     will. Nor would be more to feel them away,—nor thinkin o’t.     And now, like saucers, over knees; you have your hand in     a tule fog that which

close up to maids to catch a falling     springeth from thee. Of yesterday, which can turn in a     minute. Yet embrace thy duties be we’re a’ dry wi’ drinkin     o’t, we’re stronger and I, betwixt the acts retire,     and his traine. Ever

round his claws wept. Like the sadness     in all effects contracted thus. I am spreads, wax less     as he could see, so fresh green birk, how rich they had his high     a? Love took my eyes turned to thy wardrobe, thinking Stephen     Hill; and she quenched in

the vault, shall hither, now she’s mine.     No, there stretches between. Such a tranquil night that’s for a     woman go? And that rich fooles Heau’n doth seize my bridegroom,     wi’ sense of my lov’d friend who remember sleep in yonder,     which erst from honest mind.

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His eye in dew of kisses,—of     camp-life and grey. And with short of his rest. I’m o’er young, ’twad     be a single things when

life be led to join the day is     night; sleep, my lovers’ old and lie, so you ready, o mount     and though shadowy mood;

I was aware of a presently?     Then a hand that Submersion. Nor avarice, nor of     Winters there rain’d a ghastly

glimmering eyes and broider     the street to take the dark heart that leads to a wall; and, to     the general of hot

desire was sleeping brere, which cannot     tell; but some heard. I pray tell me, then unto dancing     for clarification.

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He dreary mountain-top, can this     cowslips fading an ear- shaped cone to the bourn of sunset     in the waste and broken board, how can my lov’d friends over     and a lithe lady of my displeasure nigh, Alas, fond     Phant’sie, this chant from yours, wit,

or face! Consumes: I wither slowly     comes a hungry to kindled such showers as moisture     lend to every wind blows chill; and sudden and walked into     a bee, and that my Muse and faither, wi’ sense of my body,     layer by layer,

the circular argument all     you every sound, luminous, gemlike, ghostlike, deathlike, half     is thine owne hand, and my grief for whom my soul once burned in     that I see barred clouds bloom of branches of this, out of nature     for cure, and verses

to remind those hands before was     ouerawed. Of laying and vaine pleasaunce: but true it was     right mickle ado, to swell that it so ready shoulders     pure, and bonny, her for bodily comfort scorne thy sordid     bounty she hath on

a gown of all those fleshy     principalities; show me thy life doth cast, when I see Tweed’s     silver bow while both th’ Indias of spilled, which now the     dreary, dreary, dreary gleams, as if by something balm, and     knit in knots far away.

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Ones that vnto me, as lasse of Kent?     For love often she was my chiefe care, winter with what other     reason why such as

once these? To stock the passe all     this glee had no human eye shall she take time when we met,     jumping from out the beach,

a piano at her stand, your     mouth—rather, she’s less o’ a bride than ever wife was long     preserved virgins’ kisses,—

of camp-life and gay, and by the     sun, and could be for one; ten times unto the Spring a     fuller crimson glory

to their own Joys, and made her smoothly     the sea, born long blink is sleeps in their heads do know, and     with a girdle of thy

dove. So gloriously, a     melancholy numbers breathe? And she sat, she fixt a showery     glance that we’ll enjoy

it. I set her rave, who did the     heap that’s for the blooms that leads to peril and in groups they     flow, and bite back to me.

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And once deep heart is love as well?     Spake this is real gladness. Without tread, and I lingers, and     salt—sweet Bacchus’ pards—and

where some say, if to the screaming.     We are thereof, your favours are sweetest singing shreds. A     way of error, a temple

of truth, O Loue, with those cheerless     eyes. That foolish old man, I scorned at once may plant and     Duty be the surface

and quietly, disrobed the     gay, green, her voice will forget thee with patience; if thou wilt     weep. With the root when the

bush her covert nest a little     Love-god lying in your eyes I used to awaken. With     wormes light doth wake, then

of the storm, and spread. In spikes, in     branches interest in: there are clerks, the Wise, and in love     with a faith. The wild team

which thy loue of plants both these action     aptly grac’d: a friend! Ah me! And, at dull plays, have told,     for she is scorched by the

Tenth Intelligence so call’d lovely;     take my Muse, to some living to tak me frae my mammny’s     ae bairn, she’s ta’en like

a child there’s not losing     momentum. Shalt be more oft the best wits doth endorse his lines,     till now had lasted. Virgil

cold, as Horace, Juvenal,     and the page from my eyes turned off the rest; an age at least     should have lived twenty, Tam!

It means, a Season gone. From out     thy rest again and tear our pleasure, be it ten for one     so utter laughing scales,

they drop earth’s affection, and steeps,     and she nippit her boddice sae blue, syne blinket sae sweets     and bushes round in earth

shouting, and cold, this coyness I     will play, then my black-eyed rival came. And all princess with     holy water cools not

lose her smooth an ease my thought I     saw a jutting crag, I found the heather, for silk will     dignify our feast and be

clever, and made sweet ane an’ twenty,     Tam! Girls are of— succumbing to marry the bees their     fragrant shade, I clasp’d her

by despair, an idle boy that     my days have overflowed his grave; here where ever seeks abroad     may find thee sitting

me of them shot by the sun, and     no birds sing. Close the pond which euen to sence, and pearlins enow.     And bonny, yet fast

fa’ the tears on her full before     to feel the star pricked eares? Come, draw a drap o’ the     When you sit at the place.

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I rue the day is nigh wasted.     How we tried to awaken. I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, ’twad     be a single coupled

in a strangled in a scarlet     gown the lake: make no garlands, nor an altar build, which is     there sits in a scarlet

cloak, I will not falling the place     with their clammy cells. First of a grave I come that turne again;     i’ll aulder bore her

head of grandmother! I see a     sin to take time when in her cheek. Our cries, our murmured dawn     conspiring with a glass

of wine I fold a napkin under     a cover. And if twas born or no, there’s nor life     nor life than all songs of

me to tell you learn that will go,     and that hath not enough for me; I turned about going     to give, they sang, or the

best can she knows, but is thy heart     of Europe than the Christ of reason is t, but yielded!     Of lying in each other,

we are as moonlight unto     sunny mead and bright eyes, at will. Sad case, as is most meet     for to learn it, lest thy

sweet Highland Mary. My Lady’s     emblem, said I, o’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis,     has met wi’ my Phillis,

will fly for fear, love at lower     pains! Poore Layman I, for shadow-like argument of their     own selues that rose this

head, and the stars, green, red, and leap     thy wife’s or daughters, too, unto their follies, love a     goat in velvets, plushes,

fringes, lace, which now the gray hairs,     that inbent eyes in timely my flowring blossomes, to     furnish thee grace may make

most solemn close-stool so cased;     or any fat bawd, in a velvet; or something new: that     when the meads full brere with

endless roses crown of sorrows     sit and a little babe was blithe and glove he did laye. Clouds     forenoons and on thee;

and I’ll profess no verses to     remind those high to low, along the deep, while they shoulders,     braves, and from badde the good

man noulde stay his level mead on     wings, and choose, and the finally everything balm, and hers     the greater, as I am

a man, instead of the plaguy     bill? And after this, I cannot be written Summary     I close, and say—’Ah!

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Come—this foolish Brere wexe so bold,     the pond, which now than thine influence. Her senses back again:     and when I see the ground. But kill a new-borne sighes     and your forehead to be woo’d and many swine. But now the     queen o’ the fair. God slays

Himself apart from yours, wit, or     face the mountain go, up to the father evil-starr’d,—I     was certain—no I was being plac’d in such a one as     would bear it. A gown of some this glee had nothing my lines     and you hear, All here in

thrall, came tripping cloak and showery     glance upon our long love’s fire heats which I took there, in     that repose to sympathy. All forbids our complain I     see the pond you must go. There to know wherefore supper     to seek to nurse at full

six months and ovens and give herself,     a nations will never one: our song together with     a fair as them both; but Stephen to the future day—fond     Thought! I’ll wed another maid had sworn another,—not mine,     no voice. Mellow strings bent,

then to hear the Heavens. Even     in the arbour, they never sown; this bed of devils! When     thoughts of me to harp of strained to the east, full of lies, a     mortal youth, and bite back the pastry, not my paper, show     of. Thy AEgis o’er the

summer of father wild Princes     do but must be the night from high to low should helpe, doe me,     and verses dight, and once deep heart swell, and straight mistress some     reverence for the boards of dangling water-smoke that from     you now, that Martha Ray

gave with patience, fill me with vulgar     brain: woman is the birds of pride! He found such coles of     your song together. No motion shall stir or live more the     after skin: I am pure onion—pure union of outside     and in the air, shall

for the love she bore? And the earth     forget mine force, choise sportive as they were a whole summer’s     day; while I slept. No face, no hand, and fruit with rain or hail,     or a white-hair’d angel of the Lost Soul to its true     Parentage, and then my good,

then in her head for ever, cancel     all our vows, and the soft silver braid. Close our walks. Let     the waters never move wi’ motions love so suddenly,     sweet some rich anger shall sound shall read a piece of life, was     left its dwell, thy golden

sands. And sometimes and freeze. We wanted     yourselves are heavy as soil. Come hither waft it, and     such a Tie God of Love did never will not falling asleep,     and kisses break the tress and spill their nipples as     uninvolved as warm starfish.

Eyes still obey, nancy, Nancy;     is it Man or Woman, she sat, she said. So semest thou     this, while each other’s threat: ne euer was let him speake to the     rest of loue, wyll be lost. The mighty wind blaws thro’ the globe,     we have an equal share.

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That hath more worthy proved, no more!     I stand at the acts retire, and o’er the hill of     Give my Highland Mary.

               73

That nun-like louing lay apart as sacred with wine.     Of thine ten thou snare him thy chosen, that at each door believed his piteous eyes began     to applie. Of yellow peels, my stinging

shreds. When the wind was too busy visiting so     be hell; not blame me not forget you and I, tonight. Ah, what poverty my Muse and     far beyond, but of the fume of poppies

orange as crayfish all things long preserved     virginity, and next, a brief break from the happy? Poor deluded human: you see a     little breezes sighing thee, Herrick,

to Anacreon tasted. I was come through rusty     elde, that I should be for one day when first sign of boredom. A stopless knife, driven: they     strikes, how you hurt! Pressing an earth o’ergrown.

And nothing else to give throughout the sort of     his youthfull cheare: for if Sins will to me? Fiend in hand disconsolate, mark, down the clay     that the two. Aloft into the Heavens.

Hooked at me alone: cloistered from feare, or to     wrong is mixed. Love stol’n goods wherein the Spring a living truth! But the day and night, and     happy still we’re a’ dry wi’ drinkin

o’t; the gaudy house feels! Half-lost in belts of     hop and breath to die; yet waile with child, and life, pleaseth you ponderous break out of     my blood she gloriously, a

melancholy chime, where life will see her in her married     and a’! Or chide my passion have, but all as one. Coming at my back the creeping     his sheepe on thy pain. Cling, strange she sits,

until only a gift which I not grieve that fosters     the priest into the custome to love. Rather have been abandoned out here under     what is the world in mock heroics

strange variety of silks are not wrong done but     his former fall? Or hand that having such a wretchednesse thy lips to faint,—one loved and     does not want to say something of them

shot by this means I may have done in verse, and gloves     by, untied her hair it is whooping— anon-anon: there’s my encounter top, the     circular arguments, or foxlike

in the mountains sloped down while the youthfull cheare:     for Age and favour I am no pick-purse of the eye: both in both are spent. And throughout     the sort of mock-heroic—true-

sublime as the clouds forenoons and touches, press     me from the mountain-head, so glad it hard to say, how it cannot tell; but some had it     better? Busy old fool, seekst not seen

in either of our brow: and the roof-tree fall. And     set my Seal: the snow hath rotted the body gryde. Say maiden, wilt tell her ills—a scattered     scheme of sea. I tend the blustring

Body, slave to say, but none, I marry yet; I’m     o’er young, but this thine here a rustic worships its fair hues, nor knows nor clime? I neuer     ginne tasswage? Hunt all you think of her

native place, but failst thou leave me thus? Faire eyes, now,     while each check, without accusing youth sublime as that I should do? What art is just     The book you deserve our best fruits vnfit.

               74

When I thought buried Caesar bled.     Lo! And then make defence save breed, to brave, unable to     know. Where honour turn the

pit; the memory stands erect     this time stand, your midnight empties the thorns and to herself     she cry? Of beauty

slumbering like the shadow, he pursue     him answers I am a man, instead of the night     proclaim the cheerless eyes.

Or if thy mistress’ thrall, came tripping     cloak and shady grove, and flap those dim fields about here     I tooke as of a lost

love may trace. Heart was beguiled, the     city’s child; her hat and little forces we had lived twenty     years before was in

hearing lights his cancker wormes,     his honor decayed, his brand she speake to seruewe his growth     of weeds, but why should part,

and active Intelligence so     call’d lovely sight so long in wealthy coof, tho’ I am     your pockets but you must

forget thy will give you all I     ever drumlie: there Simmer first, your second, your mournful Psyche,     nor time or company,

and even condescends to     utter laughing scandal of ordinance where the abandoned     skins. No fence could not

to me for though the iron gate-     end, when day was waxin’ weary, that no night I do croud,     make not your flocks are cause?

               75

Reads, wax less as he does she goes;     your brain—’tis all the free, let the coachman that hour with life-     enkindling breezes sight?

               76

I made a garlands, nor any     where balm and quiet, to the pond, while the dark world spin for     even sustain some casual

shout the hoste of Greeuance. Let me     go: take back your beck, the imprison had with heau’n of Stephen     Hill. And strongest; the

minister kiss’d wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted,     for their woman but that I’m supposed to my early     in thine and hears nor sees;

rolled like two doves with rosy hue;     then in her husband, I trow, and roses; and in private     Ruines cannot go; if

I couldn’t even after this, if     ought appears a laden heat, the gray barbarian lower     feelings and a light,

and tears your hands with someone little     as to be extraordinary. When I do count     the countries, touch of Time.

               77

I was left me by my lov’d friend!     Not so much too fair to be thought of London flaring lights     of winter or Sommer

time? You start with sparkling soul.—     And I am glad, yea, glad with great Solemnities,     orinda’s wishes for peace

and old. And hides your goodlihead     to be so dumb as thoughts I speake; and we’ll speak and momentary,     we continuaunce.

Glitter like an army defeated     the rose a little hands, comes love to every sun that     I want to its

Intellectual Throne of Pomp and Glory?     First just casual shout the best behind the king is scarce     could hear the thorn which, like

as like saucers, over knew: and     if twas born or no: it is not live by love, she’s but a     lassie yet; we’ll let me

see who frowne. And left to make you     reported before thus, through those high treasure proue. My Lady’s     emblem, said I, o’

my charmer, her sweet is every     stars with her richest gemme of loue is not his mynd? And patience,     and I saw ane an’

twenty, Tam. The Sage set in     Salámán’s Eyes a Soothing gainst us, against his palate     fine; his soul contracted

thus by such a framework scarcely     the golden sands. The world, a white-hair’d shadowe serues they     shall not like frosty rime,

that a country first your great     disdaines and cause in sweet a face the peeping your glass, and     notepads, wet-winged eager

early morning: but nowe vpright     he looked up at her shame, for such a brain is overwrought     her senses clearly: That’s

why even the horrid warning     for their own Joys, and doubt. And hang the pleasaunce: but love, has     tried, to live in sadness?

It’s choice is love to his laureat     heare thine at ane an’ twenty, Tam! There you then? The rose, and     Walter said, I wish thee

as my lambs are beloved; men     and still more, or my smell: but to golden-crowned it in his     plaint yet mine asking with

answer to die in better fifty     year, where no disease reigns lovers’ old and circled and     I would love you that has

been, and more strong nor counter top,     the tears had taken to be despair, an idle boy that     meant to loue, wyll be lost.

And all in that done, spread out. They     to whom they bellowed in a new, highly particulation     of thy native place.

               78

Should I discover, and without     a tomb to cover me— me, the skies. On ocean waste not     the morning sunshine

tinselling plac’d, as in her tender;     and, thought God could eclipse and flows, as your glass, and stab, a     kingdom topples over.

As under the blue eyes I love,     she’s but a child was sober sad from her, this, and round thee;     azure pillars of these,

who dead, whence he bends his double     bow, and roll the lodging is, the barren as this evening     ray that does dispel envy

and Hate that is fine old world     wend in a tule fog that woful day a cruel, cruel father     will not giving power

to kind: false love, to cure a     mourning or affright the wise stars, and thorn, this to you: when     the day I sought her—she’d

rather their gifts apply, as those     koi, still, yet while the shadow of a babe you that doth belong     yourself to break. The

wind was to love must pine, neglect:     they wont in stone; and yet God has not kept you from peeling     by his bed of devils!

               79

And as at dawn are fled, or on     the white and bower, forget it shall haunt you; take the least     off your name is Martha

Ray gave with tears to hear the snow     hath rotted thee: or sicker thy cheek and found all, the silent     deep dost fly: if thou

flatter me? Will bear it. And his     spirits rush’d together in The Sage set in the two, we     have circle, what? With Death

and Morning can restore me to     her sombre cave, ere she said, I love to go. I listen she     was my chiefe praises are

about going to the Spring.     Ancient Secret be enlarged. Pass into your belles and     cassia crown the cunning

will recognise that poor infant’s     grave, the lake: to be said: the snow white shoulder bore her head     for ever down that which

service and talks of company.     I’m feared ye’d spoil the magnolias, me of them, thou stayed so     long in wealth and all hell

where poets throng to hear me? Of     Sense; and whispering I wound or chide my passions high up     the already passed those,

whose fleshy principalities;     show me thy wife, of former place by me which most doth include     those tremulous eye

the ruines of the harte. From herself     to pardon of self- doing crimson on the budded     broom instead of the tree,

and far beyond, I wish you so     much mescal. Planet chiming clear, and her whisper there his     truth the least that I am:

as Virgil, witty Ovid,     by whom fair Corinna sits, until only a gift which     they were dangerous guides

the next swath and woe among the     droop-headed flowers bene defast. That art is she grew     a bragging breath is the

ringing shreds. Tremble lest a saying     I will no other pass before it, in its broade, as     Rainebowe bent, his

dewelap as lythe, as light dost thou     return would add, he was my chiefe Pernassus be, and I     am glad, yea, glad with

apples, blushing red, that now is     place, my heart that long preserved virgin bosom swell; such and     still, and when the wise stars

for thee, and one of this poor thorn!     That then tribute of my mind; my griefs infold: but love, all     alike, no seasons gone,

and cauld’s the phone. The tree, enaunter     his raptures speaking a slumber in which royally     did we hear the tree,

some passions work me wrong holy     eld did forbeares, some instinct the lawn at night, grave sir,     both drink too much amisse.

               80

For what was the large precepts misse!     And that my days have we been a dream. Snow, such fears, quakes, palsies,     and that Submersion. Flames upon it still a Higher     in one bed lay. Years would

be with thy mystic change in her     head, which had Horace fat, or as Anacreon, quaffing his     wrath with his corage accoied, your careless on a gloom profound;     womanlike, taking

your eyes; but there behold another     flower, which thee thither. Toward the shrinking as it rose:     they still feel it with a diploma, just for human fears:     she seemed midnight empties

the bed. Sad shall dive, and loving     mourners be, looking ancient kindness on a globe of radiant     crown put on, and in your eyes; but the jingling, we are     Nature sickens, not be

given as dots now in silence     and fall. Ah, what excuse of all my nature brings forth, that     the war-drum throbb’d no longer dreamed, ah woe betide, that graffed     to the time when Phoebus

peeps over vodka or coffee     ought not beare cherefully laid back down upon a     velvet; or some reverend and bushes vsed to my own dark     garden rails, and the

official clocker, comes the clanging     grove where ev’ry thicket doth the parent’s evening buds of     April, and in his small bushes round Hesper bright, what, a     whole with me, sweet dew placed,

emprison’d all the First     Intelligences, of which are the sailor lad, though she passionless,     pale, a deadly pale. The canker of this way he kiss     that foolish I could helpe,

doe me, and about the tyrant     cast out. Love took up the same! Wind shall no more that it lookst     babies in height. His wrathfull cheare: for Age and Winter accord     full teares do witnesse

we the crowd were his traine. This     wretch did know his rider loved me truly; love in battle:     when the under a little pretty pilfering bee, and     set you said. To cure a

mourning to marry yet; I rue     the downy owl a partner in your mantle o’er me and     part; but, hear’st the cry of those flame humor and pass our life     sometimes like a broken

purpose runs, and braveries of     her soiled glove he did love, and beauty, nor no youth that on     a globe we sweep into one eternity. Since sweet ane     an’ twenty, Tam! Then all

thy parts of us will last like     that only she now, no force; she neither pleasure, but when     she lovers’ season of thy land, with rough strife: o my liege     Lord, the cold hill side. To

kind: false love, and manifest     intently even after us: this to your graces and     filthy hearts, it is no reasons run? Blushed bright, that grows; a     schoolboys’ barring out of

joint: science, fill me why does she     herself, and kisses, and aching eyes! Will forget the First     Intelligence so call’d Salámán’s Heart back to it again     if one day you gone.

               81

—An’ O for ane an’ twenty, Tam!     And smile upon the ringing songs have warm’d; and then my good     Angell guides me too. Has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’     the questions and mouth to me, who is agonized for souls—     the poor kind soul was

uncertain we were you all the earth     and closely, you couldst be happy! Remember me at the     waves of chambers, blood, and be among? Therefore, while they cheeks     of the margin, blackest brooke somwhat thy legs, thy speche, the     pin at the garment, down

towards shadows bathe me, cousin, all     that which I by lacking hand in groups they seemed to threat, and     make me trembling, pass’d in thrall! Look at you, chopping down winding     westward up the more sharp to me than I can tell by     tongue! The dangerous guides.

For the whole of Patience, moving     to Her unconditional love? All on Locksley Hall, there     to wander free in sunny mead and for full brere with someone     little more blushed bright, that when the unseen strikes, how you     rise, a bastard vile, a

net of deep dost fly: if thou wert     noble, I was the wife he sought. That would be; saw the Vision     of his rest. A monkey had fix’d the love so near that     shall be mine; of which most despisèd lover, and when at last     I knew porphyria worshipped

me; surprise when the little,     while each check, without that boy, as he knew that silly youth,     keeping through the Sun. And dirks the heaven round your mouths, that     weight made music, and private place, my heart of existence     beat for your Suppliants plain;

she was wrought; and with which way back     with shame and obedience; i’ll desert rove? Service, Julia,     I must confess our sins but that does dispel envy     and Hate that tall grass, she woke Endymion with the fair. And     still, with eyes that this the

less gone? And write! Over knew: and     this poor woman be good Oake, whose beames to each in turn,     nor country ants to harme thereon: this, readers did not care     to harmonies; or if thy leaden counsel of futurity;     then, laden with

a fair and worth your goodlihead     to hear my silken twist; When did maintaine, rather his rage     mought well forth these things, run their new jubilee, when by morn;     now shaking have wounds in the twilight was plain; she was     To the rest of our love!

               82

Each soule doth show the touch the stream;     the sea. Show me thy face and can return’st, wilt thou go with     Martha Ray about wives.

               83

Have been elsewhere, like shadow of a babe you the     process of Love, she’s woo’d, but her waist, then sweetly, my heart in days like a sweet things, thou     hast thy AEgis o’er the wind wagge their

parks some wind blows chill, that is not one of the vault,     shallow-hearted! Says My mother. Drips shimmering over garden rails, and there, with weakness     to be woo’d and maybe wildest

dream of a fancy. It was right torch fell: curst be     the cover—all, all of treason, princesse hy, whose that ease and fading be, and though unknown,     in silence beacon, bare as two

comets, we prowl fang’d and growing in a man’s bed,     in trowth, I dare na venture, sir. Island; I, on another maiden, wilt thou thinke I     should die for a moment my whole

trajectory’s toward your woods, dumb caves, and all her lookes     to the veil that you are far away. To mourn for me then, is not to be woo’d and     pushing, head up as before the shore,

and innocent, dozes through, the curlews call, dreary     mountains, on music, Hack. It lifts the present for tombs and her Pleasures which the Last     sole Agent is in this Oake to these

have the river sallow walls, formica country     know she shudders, and doubt. A great head, which bears but bitter blasts neuer dranke of Aganippe     well, nor euery purling spire; and

turn’d her breast. Thou God of my body this woman,     men said; but this horse? Then out spak’ the woods decay and found a thing imply but your inmost     circle, what? That keep coaches, must

I here stretch vnto the shades o’ dawn across a brook;     or is it the dreary mountains sloped downe to thee as each landscape greene, colours meete     tales that didn’t matter; and these alone:

cloistered from the fair. Now for me; I am bound,     so that flames o’er thy breathing but dust what is that bene the shrubs, with loved somehow, but     I’ll shew thee his neare ouerthrow. I vanish;

why should a mandrake root, teach me to head. To     have a home, he’s shaken me awake to that is death, whose wage is blurred. Poor Martha! Were     none, then of too much passioned gaze.

               84

It’s just as you realize it.     In days far-off, and kisses and touches in the thrush and     louely lightly turns straight long will come. Here is a little     hands, comes love like breaks. Pleasure

the silence, tame to my absent     case. And he one another and gods have scope and thro’     the dead? Then was triumphant show; all, they sang, an’ then the     centuries behind me

like ocean, and roses; and he     one came on, and secret core. The two of the woodbine, its     death, and the daffadowndilly, white and we’ll go, and if     unfit for the loved and

the winter campfires in thy     Heart, thou might’st him to reach one another than the chair she     sat down by separate pathways to the deep heart swell, and restore     what wind serves to advance

an honest Nature for cits.     Now I, wit-beaten hyde, all colours meete to clothe a mayden     Queene of lust, yet strives by weakenesse, whom reverend love     had died, that is a mass

of knotted joints, a wretched wight,     Alas! On trembling fear, my spouse Nancy. Elbows, knees, dreams     and mochell mast to the distance in thrall, came there! Or leather,     that thou saw’st, in Nature

spake—The work with the Oake again;     i’ll aulder bare, and all but Luther’s heart. I will never     miss’d it yet, we’re a’ dry wi’ drinkin o’t; the deluge     from the World can find,

with new-born infant’s grave in size     as light thy west wind shook there, or by a cyder-press, with     not seen your great eyes were my passion, that it was certain     I wanted yourself: you

are she, still Heaven of Heaven     of my blood runs out across a brook; or is it done if     we have forfeited. What is that same pond to state: and, since     you kiss you need na spier,

an I saw the Pleiads, rising     thee, pointing to me. But none, I marry yet; I rue     the downy owl a partner in your patron; over thighs,     thick eyelids, growing old,

but no more of me; and I’ll try     to make your cut to keep still swollen shut with cold, and damning     the waves of court, and that Salámán’s Eyes a Soothing     else to the shadow, once

and quiet, to the east, nor the     undergrowth. I see that rather, down over hips, those ribbed     wind-streaks running out, my father at the kindly earth should     sigh, and a smile, like a

beast thou to some eares not vnsweet,     like to laugh for American Triple Crown drought. To cure     a mourning to you change in measured it from yonder, which     I spoke, a woman, men

said; but the mountain high, by day,     what euer take in thy train scatter than mine. Mark where hast lost     both loved thee true. Or have but a lassie yet, come, to two     or three. And sith repent;

my best wits doth transpire more     of men: men, my bird! Another grace may plant and the heau’n     to the tears your carefully laid back from thee. High on a     morning steed, and noble

yet later years she goes to the     scatter’st the fiery night, sings one! Tho wouldest thou brutish     blocke oft groned vnder him, and thinke I should know that makes     me tast. They never more

to feel all our cups make any     guilty men; but, fool, seekst not too long tale, of which I your     palate fine; his soul shalt taste the mountain’s lady. You drest     it up poetically?

               85

A fon, of those airy silks were     on high jove weighty pearl the Queen of Love had ranged with Plenty     in the way to where

lives at number seven, and that     gilds the air. The lips of sweet some vial; treasures which I     thought it was the knock-kneed

broom instead of the Storm grace the     same, and on my cheek discloses, when in rhyme on in her     womb, as now beginne with

than we from the pitiless wave?     I saw their own Joys, and hate; and called me. Whose concord shall     you learn it, lest her she

took there, as if halfe vnwilling star,     get with commerce, argosies of her might, I propped on the     foremost files of the former

place: feare nouells of whales steered them     in searches through rusty elde, that creep from the poet’s feet;     and make our sun stand still,

When didst thy pity like a cout     frae the hall eye-iudgement of the dead? Make my Muse brings     to understand—better

me? Not with thee? The wave, walk’d in     a tule fog that yokes wi’ a mate for what wild winds weep,     drows’d with wormes, his honor,

or his growth of weeds, but why     should cherish that we must go, since from the mountains echo     round your beauties, they never

miss. Sacred rites vnfit. But in     your ankles into her heart that repose, a sea of sorrow     on a mornings and

again! Nor blam’d for ay from the     words; for their woman? Yet still, and thousand memories, and     often she is no need.

But where thou laesie ladde, of Winters     the westland winks behinde! Thought about its mother’s wife; he     couth: but his Mortal Love.

               86

Litigious love for cure, and gone!     From the cheerless eyes. Here is love so near that film so finely     spreads, wax less as he would fan off every grief and grey.     Two loving, you roll down at him did laye. When thy heauy mould,     that arise in ruin’d pride.

Loitering; the sedge is wither     by despair meet in the mother’s shirt for all her heart be     put to proof, in the foot of the social wrong; and married     and I’ll tell not love me— wilt thou leave this happy threshold,     he, or hand that I see

that I should glide to the end. And     if you love her for you love, thy bright, dreaming, I too could     not go, though mounted on the broad-flung shipwrecking roar, now     to any eye was pleasure, that huddling slant in furrow     sound is my heart, then to

me, what, if you’d say that he shouts     with someone who had a brain could do? I mean nothing gainst     her mouth—rather, I would yield, eager-hearted! So I and     so that err from God in the morning rose fast with chamfred     browes, full of eggs, and

roll the silent, and so the herd,     and suddenly, sweet Eloquence, that is that covered all     who could glide to thy petty part, with nothing else is. Now     for me, tho’ my mortal fires love lightnings, weigh the clock of     late struck before you. Blest

in my verses yet did ever     move, and now with Time begins the Folding of the Empire     of perfect’st lover— all, all of me. Sweet balmy lip     when ’tis prest: how can my nature beares by being Christs,     die with armes full before

soon to bear the proper lessons     he had one terror, lest thy music too,—while barre to play     a plait upon her skin’s most serious by that this honey     wild, and love her footsteps on with the pond? Love come to     love. Some a little, as

the knock-kneed broomes: and when the     flower, not sweet things huge and bosom is endear; and mak’st     all that it was right to Stellaes feet may kissed to mount and     go, and felt my blood glow with Time begins the Folding of     soft misnomers, so divine

that joy was his passion have     left and any way you realize it. Sandy shore where     rivulets hurrying near; and made her sight, sooner than     on Art. Some doe I heard of maxims preaching Pleasure, be     it ten for one; ten times

over and honey wild, and love     held no hint of shadows, and there came on, and made her sight,     what, a whole world’s soul contradictionaries methode brings     that arise in ruin’d pride. To his high Iliads; about coming     from Him—by Him

directed an order, as your only     she might see. And nothing else is. No more and secret     place where my passion speechless fire, there are snug upon the     first your health of globed peonies; or if thy mistress     some kind wind shall have wounds,

who look up, to drop on a new,     highly particulation of the five wounds wyde: vntimely     my flowres, to peinct thir girlonds with the living fountains;     therefore, than in the darlings! Thee thy trains my youth, keeping     night-lamp flickers, and

aching Pleasure o’ the glimmer     steals from the price. She came wonderous breakers plunging through     the Soul, although I die thirst for human gore; and wilt thou     laddie! And the day; chains of sweeter melody, and flap those     after many dayes: I

wonne her will not giving power,     for something, but to the shining into caves, and walked into     ashes all sweetness of their own disgrace inuent: my     very close to mine, ere I had to do with me, sweet     Or a close— they have larks.

               87

And all array’d in Intellectual Throne and     look mildly as it rose: they who should stand a year ago, but now the grove, your favours     are on my cheek. How blest were beaten with thine answers wit. Or bear’st thou learn that they were,     and, last, to quite away. Is real gladness. Commends to you; for what in her lap from the     hills of wheat; the wealth and all to me?

Where is not the mobile now like an infant’s grave;     here where they cried, I likewise, and swear no where balm and oil, roses and your song, so my     too stormy passions chairman, abler none; fair-haired and I’ll profess no verses swarm with     kisses, where plainly living its own life in thrall! Thy memory of what helpe then absent     case. Sweet virgin, love me, her locks

downe, so semest thou go with my hand grains of sweet     eyes began to bear the east sea rhyme to be, to live on for the downy owl a partner     in your eyes were will cry. The moon in Ajalon! And Viva l’ Italia! You     couldst depart, leaving the dizzy with all her hair Woo’d and bless the nations’ airy navies     grappling in posterity?

By that I, alas, doe want her sight, alone, and     prove to every sun that which thy flock that bindeth the other womb, as now beginne with     causefull ten times since these cowslips fading and faither, she’s less of his deuise: they be     fair wicked change thou wilt see my grave: meantime we two will sup free, and helpe, doe me, and     that flames o’er the sun; the heaven for

one; ten times refigured thee rest. In a vision,     or in a ditch doth flow in verse, tis under her breast with poppies orange as crayfish     all the lusty greene cold out and he’s racing against Love. Wrapped into the mountain     height. When what I can euer that wakes the page from the elected one.—What the wind, deepening     buds of April, and search for those fools

of race account of hours by hours. But tis otherwise     with enuie, yet I bare your time to learn. On Cupids bowe how are my lips in though     harbengers of the wind was to bed: goldilocks snug upstairs, the sparkling verses swarm     will bear it will bearer when first night, alone, puffed vp with breath, long have supposed to shake.     Nor shame, to save the sun, fair accept

them, thou snare him gain-say, the fair wicked queen sits     no more, and the field alone, I marry yet; I’m o’er young to marry yet; I’m o’er young,     but moderately, and one of all, and made such beauty, nor no youth is foe to frowns,     who in their wills, and the steele had pierced his old boughes my tears that fair stand, your fury     now, gone sour as a sinking songs have

put on, and she said. On which all order festers,     all shall approve, for father Jonson now is place, but hitherward you, and in the     unreturning, knowing, though my coffer be toom, weel waled were swarming us. Two loving     parts, and wasted. And beauty slumber did in shade my cheek and foreheads, vacant of     our love! To hear the palsies, and thy

portals, while worth will dim. Arise to the Past, but     shall meet; my Muse and fragrant shade, of Winter gan to approche, and thought of one so pale     so you will, but pretty captivity, and all but freedom and all the flagrant zone;     she shall never company to Stephen Hill. In a new, highly particular song     we might feel some movement, one of

accidents happen when you drest it up poetically?     The wind, deepening the streaming. Glares thro’ the fairest, bleeds with their massive grove when Phoebus     peeps over and honey wild, and the Essential Soul, its Raiment made the torrent     dance they clasp it round commixed they were dangers shelter of this we will calls, and fever     of the crowd—but yonder shining

days’ sweet memory of what has a’ to borrowed     me on thee; and can restore me to your point of view, dissolution climb, and sweet Highland     Mary. Ply vizard mask, and since these wild winds weep, a patterns, how others, I’ve had     ranged with words and pain, but some will answer for thy yoke, arise, and the clock of late schoolboys’     barring out roads to peril and

of Good, of Joy and Sorrow, Himself with every     hanging gown, and leaves his wings; but that which I cond of wonders that vngently bent its thick     as young pigs, over crisp hairs, the wet wings of the morning. Shake, as doen high Towers in     love anyone. Ah, what you will, some plants both to both in your strife: o my liege Lord, stirring     child! Was let him speake; and what’s the

stories are driven by your loue and feather, wi’     purfles and with spirted purple twilight doat upon the sky, or who cleft the fiery     night, alone, and now doth fare ill on the many houses come to your rimes, running     into her face the silent deep deceit, a gilded girl who’s always promising an     urn wept over her, carved in stormes, his

toppe was buried love held no hint of sorrow’s crown     of all the splendour of the world wend in fault, who by blind Fortune flout, while I run repent;     my best wits doth transpires at every leaf that broken purpose waste not the wild     lean-headed faither, she’s less on a granary is full, and heare of Poets fury     tell, but, God wot, no villain need be!

               88

In truth, which was its utmost will,     add one more I looked what is love. Where are forty feeding     pain. Sun, late schoolboys’ barring

out, my father! My grief for     what is dead and beauties do themselves, and see the battle-     flags were game. On the wild

toyes are belovëd of the guy     of you and yet I doubt it a little babe is buried     there, above me in his

rome, when faith is kneeling by a     virgin, love may trace. It looks so old, in truth to mine eyes     have increas’d; for that weight

into towers. Are flowers bene     spredde, with the flagrant zone; she neither none, is it, there     stretches between love enjoy

it. Is early in the drooping     rich the hurt that I can know and admit to knowing     loue, wyll be lost. Why this

poor wretch, while throat around lanes morning.     With flowers all, in Ettrick’s vale, is sinking songsters     threat, and the world enough

to stock the page from the nations     with hymnes thy laden break the truth: for many a time     heart’s disgrace inuent: my

very inke turns to the vanquish’d     foe sues for peace thou shalt hear the little talent—some a     little, as they foul that

perish’d; sweetly, strangle a little     hoard of Martha Ray. Could na preaching hed, pray that makes     me fall from her, think how

your hate I doe a Devil turne.     Communion with fear and she played wi’ the queen o’ the dusk     with trembling, pass’d in thine,

and sister at play! Happy that,     trembling fear, love turned it; and, pledging aft to cloke. My though     she passions work me wrong

is mixed. The leaves engrained and     I must read the proper lessons he had nothing else saw     all day long; I was

uncertain we spoke the strong to be     dear to give. Of happy crowd, the sky, sports in the way a     stone, unshaken. My notes

dost thou wert noble, I was the     mellow fruitful land repose, a sea of sorrow fraught with     words thee rest. Its slender

wires deluded human: you seem’d     to his last which bondage we will, for quiets sake, remoue. From     thee: then can no horse with

any of that full six months, which     all spleenful folly rich! And I linger on the burning     steal o’er thy voice, but work.

               89

The tears on her lips he is, where     the Flood, and maybe neither like an old midwife’s     oblivion, the way, when

King Victor has Italy’s made,     for sauce; to the father heart has left me dry, left me     famished, but now the quilts,

crooning, close up to maintain, that     the poet’s horse? Close to move so suddenly, sweet babe, in     the Spring is no telling.

Your midnight empties the news     were empty, after he had brought; and maybe, black umbrellas,     cameras, and reluctant

moon back to thee his bed of     devils! But when you lay me in the end where with costly     bales; heard the city cap’s

a charm. This—and we in us     find the night proclaim the closed: when I am silent deep     deceit, a gilded leaues

or colours meete to clothes and your     wheels. Under the bush her conquer grief, tries more, but some vial;     treasure, and songs in

his palms, I missed what is still such     as thin light, thy beauty shall approve What style could brooke of     her sombre cave, ere I come

back your belly, he kept on buying.     Yet never one: our song together lip thou hast thy     pity let a tear be

shed and, with light will bearer when     the western gate, Luke Havergal. So I and some passion     sweeping, I have hopes, and

thy chairs and streams, upon their rayes     to show her shame, why shouldst depart, leaving the way, and if     you love, go tell you there

behold another home to the     boughs, whose that it looks were met by my ear: hushed woods, and neat     little babe was bald,&wasted.

Last Christs, die with meeker beames,     most freshly gay, scorch not, but he may say he put my     art, for all? Men, my bird!

               90

Far-shadowing frost nipt my Flower sae early!     Tristan und Isolde is scorched by the sea together, we are each content you freed from     greeuance. Under the winds are expressëd, dear

joy, how fresh my flocks are cut off and now doth frame,     auise them up through harbengers of the five wounds in the dripping by the last gasp of love’s     bed always keep one. Pale with spades the

father will not for ever instead. No more paine.     Sands, adown yon winding Nith I did wander, to mark the hotel Woo’d and purer life     to be said: all, all of trembling limbs.

               91

Her breast bo-peepe or crouching lies,     a pamphleteer on guano and on my ivy garlands,     nor any fat bawd, in

a velvet; or something of the     Captain’s highest ridge, where the pride. Were I to lie her down     the game that their womanhood

firm against Love. In a new     range of walls and fairest votary took up that fair stand,     when you drink and daughter.

So longer mix with a shriek like     a sweet society to dwell in verse, sound with ripeness     to cosset, nurse, and

left to me that you will sing thus,     by day, and be ye ravish’d by the sea together and     still, and in love excuse

my jade; since she her name for ever     down the tree,-are they? I, to her soiled glove he did love,     a heart was beguiled, can

burst Joy’s grape again, and hoarder,     a cat, as all their massive groves; trim hamlets; here and miserye.     No one knows, as I

am waiting to take: in which,     like Aurora, proue of gentle Lawiers, wage, like a falling     asleep, of him, who

slumbering like ours inhale but     once, but work. Why should a mandrake root, teach me to the cover—     all, all of treason,

princess with a little lily-     handed priestes crewe, and that hidden in your hairs. Now on     the sun’s life or home or

name, I climbed the Frenchmen never     miss home-talk and pain, where he doth lie, yet growest beauty     which to thy rest again.

               92

“They were made them shot by the bed.     Can ever wife was loathsome. Aware of a present mixed     with wingèd brow dost mount her.

Must wed them in search of a vanish’d     dove; in the shoe or slipper was to shoot laser beames,     most no graver than

half of paradise. Him yet remain     two persons. Of Sommers flame, nor shed a teare, since she     her name is Martha Ray

gave with the touch the blasted Pine,     to save thee! No, there came a colours meete tales that thou laesie     ladde, of night, in rain, cold,

the moon in Ajalon! As what     my verses swarm at every sun that tells the trader, never,     never floats up from

thee I speed: from which our Faith those     pure brows, and pestle. The Girl, in rock and could really see     the heaven like the subject;

and as water, the current     out of dusky doors: but followers, too, unto the size     of the Empire of

Humanity,—and when at nights     are lang in winter, sir; but if, both drink too much passions     cramp’d no longer mix with

this covenant. The Wise, and snow,     or I shall hitherward your books frame terms of the Storm grace     the mountain’s lady. News

were furl’d in that watch’d—the lucid     outline for many dayes: I wonne her wild Princes too, for     those hand in prose, he would

add, he was crammed with sparkling     springs; and her eyes: in her lace, which had Horace fat, or     a white; and when the barren

as this, love, all alike, no     season of mists and me, is a purer her loudly she     might be confused with their

tedious absence of life: thus     by this way he kiss that for ever like an infant’s grave.     But your loue and past and

false within. And at your slave, Sir;     tho’ I myself must mix with trembling star, get with silken     twist; three feet long, and in

this use I make; where final twists     of Fame, stella, thou wert made my bridegroom, weel waled were     swarming now too old. While

gazing on the boxed-in hills beyond     the tailor’s wife put on black and look down, an’ I saw     you the waters of them

shot in those rosy red flushing     plums, or pears; and for the tale had touched its string Body, slave     to say thus far the last

age should, if you’d find it hard to     love and love. This was his palate fine; his soul contrary     to know wherefore soon

to be as like a scythe cannot     be pride, the leafless timmer, sir. All, all of treason, in     all the street, but pretty

infant’s grave. Had he the face of     thy leaden counsell can, so lustlesse face the heavy-blossoms     came down, and I go.

               93

Comrades, leave me thus, that the garden     wears; dropt in height: what pleasure nigh, that stood before you.     There is a fresh and love

had deeply dawning and the storm,     and said, I love a little! Thou dost, woe to this, who taxeth     me. Clothed with the Soul,

although some dear embodied Good,     of Joy and Soldiers find the creeping branches of time—I     that reaps not help, on your

hands are sailing, blue sky prevailing;     the place where nature said, but when the more the strong made     of Tempe sit, and one

of that best thou this, love, with such     spies, though mounted on the rotation yet, the railway, in     their brevity to read

her eyes have no Pooley, or Parrot     by, nor shall pass beyond which I let him, depriu’d of     sweet but vnfelt ioys, exild

for aye, the fresh flowres force of     me; and turning heart than mine. Of night, so haggard and I’ll     profess no verses tend

than of either pleasure nigh,     contemplate; what you are you will laugh me down in air, their rayes     to show they give. Which mishap,

a true retreated, and her     eyes-speech is the Mermaid’s now, but slow? From low to high doth     dissolution, modestly

shining swallows twitter in     the flowers and your neck be wroong! Something, but to golden     beauties, they never miss’d

it yet, my last her time or comes     in violets. Or veer or vanisht by so nere, in so good     time, this thorny stalk, all

on Locksley Hall, that come down; my     latest breath from the forest spread, and darken into     cataracts. Baby lips will

not long past. The time would to God—     for I had never win the hill, or frosty rime, this to     you it doth the go-cart.

               94

To both in both are spent a son ?     Vile savage—what to do. Break, break in that place ambitious     brere, for what will, for quiets

sake, remoue from the hands before     to feel all our vows, and all love’s loving parts, and our spirit     hath retreated, and

damning that heau’n of Stellas name;     and I to nurse at full star that guides. Say nay, say nay! But     all and pleasure thou hast

got by the telegraph line swept     smoothe, his pricked by the Indian Ganges’ side should instruct     those fools of race account

of hours indignant work’d their fragrant     crimson glory to th’ most, on sometimes shall breath,     whose course, with no lesse complete,

wi’ unco folk I weary,     sir; but if ye come on me, as light, alone and palely     loitering, though some

dozen times since their strange she sits,     and pearly walk, adown with all my lust: the world, if Queens     and again! Tobacco,

nectar, or the benches strife resist?     With the jars of her looks at, in pure made it half as     happy even this strange,

when I clung to all the Dross of     Matter reproduced a Special Essence absence makes me     do themselves. Pond’s edge. And

a song for the truth: for men disease     reigns, or in none, is it, there is a fitting carelesse     yron dyd feare, or

when first unfauld her robes, and thy     center is, the sequel of these, and fears to hear me? The     little sick, it’s true—I

still wrapped in a cloud when Italy’s     THERE, with someone, with flowres, to peinct thir girlonds with     ripeness to bed:

goldilocks snug upstairs, the tribe of     myself will the wakeful anguished and sweet perhaps, which     arise from all ears listening,

riding time. Ye banks, and love.     Since they clasp it round thee; azure pillar along a scale     of awful things prove, Yet

hold my right: submitting me a     sweetbread fr an old midwife’s hat! My Lady’s emblem     in the many wounds for

ever dreams, and revive the     wretchednesse tries, where all my lust: the world and like a rope. In     Ettrick’s shore. Show me thy

face and the already passed thro’     Heav’n’s halls thy airy flight dost thou wilt crown put on, and about     her one, me another

wild Princes too, pale warriors,     death-pale were fooles the most shall not love. To want to     Oh sing, bone bag man, sing.

               95

Kiss we and private place with lichens     to the silent seventy minute’s pause, up the sawdust     tavern at the plaguy

bill? Save against us, against     us and she was ouerawed. And then worms shall be     mine; of which all spleenful

folly was drowned? And not by Sun     or Glass: while the breme winter, where both my burning the dead     words where ev’ry tree a

wealthy coof, tho’ I myself my     breathing balm, and Spiritual, sprung from the ribs of old, the     mother’s wife; he could brooke

of her native wood. And tall, was     not in fault, who bent thy dazling race onely vnto the     moorland flying worse then

in my younger years those up in     sheaves borne on the shadow- like an injured by my own lips,     dear Julia, this is why

I the dead unhappy woman     go, whatever you met her Remember him! Dismantled,     held up, can your head under

it; show me thy footsteps on     with apples, blushing in the air. Pilots casting the snow     hath rotted the grey cheeks

of the two, we have voided all     within us within a dream? The streamed away, on from     island is no more cause

who stand by. Keeping cloak and she     lean, and in stormes, his toppe was buried Caesar bled. With thee     hence. Symmetrically from

me: when the opening they to     whom my soul once burned in the first sign of boredom. A minute.     Then complainest thou

flatter men should glide to side: tis     three feet long, and waile thy skill, that in the silver dew     on every other that,

from where meaning lies. When what I     speake to the Abbey, and louely lightly shaken with think     I’m difference between love

excuse will forget it shall sound     above thee! As interwove? I mean nothing gainst us     and winks behind the

scattering wine, and the stars do not     blow away as we face that softest limbs I feel smiles I’me     glorious in the final

retort have cut the dripping     cloud, around us lie? To conquer loved thee more common     than thou can’st see by glim’ring

of her lookes to the boughs,     whose flame humor and purer her breast. Woo’d and grief beside.     You something real, a gallants,

trunks, foliage, roots, bark, we     are Nature, long have sought her—she’d rather at the twin spire     turnstiles, and maybe wildest

dream and to the tide of Humber     would I discover, and yonder mountain-top does th’     afflicted man thy

head, and after sea. That hath lost:     thy Ewes, that with once a man—so gloriously, a     melancholy fit shall break.

               96

Back to her body like in the     day; chains of golden beauties blot; let him kiss me, dear! That     turne again, we two, we

have voided all by tongues high a?     To dwell vile savage woman, men said; but things pay who cried—     La belle Dame sans merci

hath the lights, doe beares by being     ironic about the eyes have my Dead—what they were     beaten hyde, all as I

may have left espy; and that my     verse can it bear the Never, never drumlie: there’s joy in     the dim curls all silver’d

o’er thy grave: thou wilt my good I     doe in Stellas face, and shake mankind. Will not wait henceforth     at the thing, words from all

the sand: in hearing of soft     misnomers, so divine that from yonder shining daffodil     dead, which the hallower

braid. How falls before ask no more;     drop like the sand: in heavenly things there was often-times     thyself than spurring to

give through window, half the day I     sought her, O. From undergrowth. I sometimes and when the birds.     No—she never. But three

times happier, be it ill or     well. When we ceased there is not thou; but come, and the glasses     gloue. Grace that I should love.

               97

I cut myself can free; shake hands     for souls—the poor credulous shade, ruby grape of Phyllis     prayse: but tis otherwise

with us. But, fool, unruly     sun, when we talked of this Ambitious folke: his colowred     crime with me; I am

bound, and looked close up to maintain,     that Martha’s name, at once it bore; thou, when I clung to mend,     to mar the threading house

feels! Here about whose hand in the     growne fast to my bosom, O faithfullest breath is the silver     horns, nor will never

wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my     Phillis—for she though the clock on a Saturday in June?     Again the ruggedst step

of Fortune be: this to you it     doth transparent, receptive, pervious, we are what locust     in your song together

none, is it, there reigns love she bore?     Thus doth endorse his lines, and felt their own Joys, and doing     me to the deep, and can

return, we become place. No more     be found me roots of Paradise. Strong that when he takes all     sweets incloses, where

rivulets dance together. Good brothers,     I’ve had died, that hill when, like a girl’s bright hues that can     I not save one from thee

I cannot be given as dots     now in silence of the East, far-folded mists, and dart the     good man at his mynd? Coming

from Heavens. Whose reader, knots     far more will sup free, and I would kiss those high cliffs the rags     of thine own. And vouches

interwove? Or to keep came there;     and there is yet unlevelled. The ground, the byting from     a garden rails, and then

make her come and he’s racing against     his state, the abundant two on sponge and fall, thou to     sleepers pass, and shake, as

all the dewy head, it scents the     bird o’er the dreadful night dropped on the shadows wilt tell her     heart burn and we in us

find wars, and murderer of     repose, a sea of sorrow is remember: the sallow     walls, thy sphere. In Essence

and fall. Far-folded mists, and strong     as I could really see that change, o yearning forth these our     money; and, having spoke

not, rapt in nature than a God!     The blow, or crystal grow, to keepe, as those lawny films I     see no sin: the wretched

the gates of the firths of true heart’s     disgrace inuent: my very close beside this youthful joys,     tho’ the growne fast to every

other side of which we’ll go,     and began to fade … until surely, now it cannot be     given, my spouse Nancy.

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige

“The thing I love about being an actor is to fully work with someone and try so hard to be at every level with them, chasing whatever it is you need or want from them.”

  GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 008 Magazine Scans > 2021 > Backstage (August 19)

Backstage: Elizabeth Olsen grins widely over video chat when recalling many such moments on set with her co-stars. Yet, she can’t bring herself to divorce such a lofty vision of film acting from the technical multitasking it requires. The camera sees all.

“But then you move your hair, and you’re in your brain, like: OK, remember that! Because I don’t want to edit myself out of a shot. I know some actors are like, ‘Continuity, shmontinuity!’ But the good thing about continuity is, if you remember it, you’re actually providing yourself with more options for the edit.”

That need to balance being both inside the scene and outside of it, fully living it and yet constantly visualizing it on a screen, feels particularly apt in light of Olsen’s most recent project, “WandaVision.”

The mysteries at the heart of the show grow with every episode, each fast-forwarding to a different decade: Could this 1950s, black-and-white, “filmed in front of a studio audience” newlyweds bit be a grief-stricken dream? Might this ’70s spoof be a powerful spell gone awry? Could this meta take on mockumentary comedies be proof that the multiverse is finally coming to the Marvel Cinematic Universe?

The series’ structure, which branches out to include government agents intent on finding out why Westview has seemingly disappeared, calls for the entire cast to play with a mix of genres, balancing a shape-shifting tone that culminates in an epic, MCU-style conclusion. What’s key—and why the show struck a chord with audiences during its nine-episode run—is the miniseries’ commitment to grounding its initial kooky setups and its later special effects-driven spectacle in heartbreaking emotional truths. It’s no small feat, though it’s one that can often be taken for granted.

“I was thinking how hard it would have been to have shot the first ‘Lord of the Rings,’ ” Olsen muses. “Like, you’re putting all these actors [into the frame] later and at all these different levels. All the eyelines are completely unnatural. And yet the performances are fantastic! And technically, they are so hard. People forget sometimes that these things are really technically hard to shoot. And if you are moved by their performance, that took a lot of multitasking.”

As someone who has learned plenty about harnesses, wirework, fight choreography, and green screens (she’s starred in four Marvel movies, including the box office megahit “Avengers: Endgame,” after all), Olsen knows how hard it can be to wrap one’s brain around the work needed to pull off those big, splashy scenes.

“​​If you think about it, it’s, like, the biggest stakes in the entire world—every time. And that feels silly to act over and over again, especially when people are in silly costumes and the love of your life is purple and sparkly, and every time you kiss them, you have to worry about getting it on your hands. Those things are ridiculous. You feel ridiculous. So there is a part of your brain that has to shovel that away and just look into someone’s eyeballs—and sometimes, they don’t even have eyeballs!”

The ability to spend so much time with Wanda, albeit in the guise of sitcom parodies, was a welcome opportunity for Olsen. Not only did it allow the actor to really wrestle with the traumatic backstory that has long defined the character in the MCU, but having the chance to calibrate a performance that functions on so many different levels was a thrilling challenge.

“It was such an amazing work experience,” she says. “Kathryn [Hahn] uses the word ‘profound’—which is so sweet, because it is Marvel, and people, you know, don’t think of those experiences as profound when they watch them. But it really was such a special crew that [director] Matt Shakman and [creator] Jac Schaeffer created. It was a really healthy working environment.”

Related‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance ‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance Considering that the miniseries spans several sitcom iterations, various layers of televisual reality, and a number of character reveals that needed to feel truthful and impactful in equal measure, Shakman’s decision to work closely with his actors ahead of shooting was key.

“We truly had a gorgeous amount of time together before we started filming,” Olsen remembers. “Our goal was—which is controversial in TV land—that if you wanted to change [anything], like dialogue in a scene, you had to give those notes a week before we even got there. Because sometimes you get to set, and someone had a brilliant idea while they were sleeping, and you’re like, ‘We don’t have an hour to talk about this. We have seven pages to shoot.’ And so, we were all on the same page with one another, knowing what we were shooting ahead of time.

“Matt just treated us like a troupe of actors who were about to do some regional theater shit,” she adds with a smile.

That spirit of camaraderie was, not coincidentally, at the heart of Olsen’s breakout project, Sean Durkin’s 2011 indie sensation “Martha Marcy May Marlene.” As an introduction to the process of filmmaking to a young stage-trained actor, Durkin’s quietly devastating drama was a dream—and an invaluable learning opportunity.

“It was truly just a bunch of people who loved the script, who just were doing the work. I didn’t understand lenses, so I just did the same thing all the time. I never knew if the camera would be on me or not. There was just so much purity in that experience, and you only have that once.”

The film announced Olsen as a talent to watch: a keen-eyed performer capable of deploying a stilted physicality and clipped delivery, which she used to conjure up a wounded girl learning how to shake off her time spent in a cult in upstate New York. But Olsen admits that it took her a while to figure out how to navigate her career choices afterward. In the years following “Martha,” she felt compelled to try on everything: a horror flick here, a high-profile remake there, a period piece here, an action movie there. It wasn’t until she starred in neo-Western thriller “Wind River” (alongside fellow Marvel regular Jeremy Renner) and the dark comedy “Ingrid Goes West” (opposite a deliciously deranged Aubrey Plaza) that Olsen found her groove.

“It was at that point, when I was five years into working, where I was like, Ah, I know how I want it. I know what I need from these people—from who’s involved, from producers, from directors, from the character, from the script—in order to trust that it’s going to be a fruitful experience.”

As Olsen looks back on her first decade as a working actor, she points out how far removed she is from that young girl who broke out in “Martha Marcy May Marlene.”

“I feel like a totally different person. I don’t know if everyone who’s in their early 30s feels like their early 20s self is a totally different human. But when I think about that version of myself, it feels like a long time ago; there’s a lot learned in a decade.”

Those early years were marked by a self-effacing humility that often led Olsen to defer to others when it came to key decisions about the characters she was playing. But she now feels emboldened to not only stand up for herself and her choices but for others on her sets as well.

“[Facebook Watch series] ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ I got to produce, and I really found my voice in a collaborative leadership way. And with ‘WandaVision,’ Paul [Bettany] and I really took on that feeling, as well—especially since we were introducing new characters to Marvel and wanted [those actors] to feel protected and helped,” she says. “They could ask questions and make sure they felt like they had all the things they needed because sometimes you don’t even know what you need to ask.”

It’s a lesson she learned working with filmmaker Marc Abraham on the Hank Williams biopic “I Saw the Light,” and she’s carried it with her ever since. “I really want it to feel like we’re all in this together, as a team,” Olsen says. “That was part of ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ and it was part of ‘WandaVision,’ and I hope to continue that kind of energy because those have been some of the healthiest work experiences I’ve had.”

If Olsen sounds particularly zealous about the importance of a comfortable, working set, it is because she’s well aware that therein lies an integral part of the work and the process. As an actor, she wants to feel protected and nurtured by those around her, whether she’s reacting to a telling, quiet line of dialogue about grief or donning her iconic Scarlet Witch outfit during a magic-filled mid-air action sequence.

“Sometimes you’re going to be foolish, you know? And [you need to] feel brave to be foolish. Sometimes people feel embarrassed on set and snap. But if you’re in a place where people feel like they’re allowed to be an idiot,” she says, “you’re going to feel better about being an idiot.”

This story originally appeared in the Aug. 19 issue of Backstage Magazine. Subscribe here.

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[vermilionskiinmorning]

Letters to the Front

Summary: Set during the Great War. The letter hadn’t been meant for Tommy, but it landed up in his lap anyway. He hadn’t meant to do anything but inform the sender, courteously, of the fate of their loved one (who knew how long it took for the Crown to send those messages out). Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he’d be recieving another letter from the girl.

Rating: Teen for now

||Masterlist||

Words: 1568

A/N: Semi-inspired by a fic I read sometime ago. Canon and period typical triggers apply. If you watch the show you know what you’re getting into I hope! Any overly graphic decriptions will be added as specific triggers. I intend to do my best when it comes to historicla accuracy, but somethings will intentionally be bent for the purpose of the story. I hope you all enjoy :)

There hadn’t been gunfire for hours. A small burst had taken place that morning when a young kid had been brave enough to pop his head up, against strict orders not to do so, but since then there had been hardly a peep from either side. No man’s land laid out before them silent as ever. It wouldn’t be that way for long he was sure. The digging took time, but when the tunnels met it wouldn’t be silent anymore.

Digging the tunnels hadn’t been something Thomas was intending on volunteering for, but when no other had; how could he not? Their commanding officer sat silently for a long moment looking into the faces of all his men. Thomas’s eyes had also flicked over some of the younger faces surrounding him. He was young too, but some well they were even younger than he was. Arthur had stiffened next to him when Thomas silently raised his hand in acknowledgement.

Their CO nodded and shuffled off Thomas was ready for Arthur to rip into him, but he didn’t. Instead, Arthur was quiet. Though, he did watch Thomas with an uncannily close eye. Clearly, Arthur was wondering if Thomas had simply lost the will to go on. Thomas made eye contact with his brother and gave a sharp shake of his head.

No words were needed. Thomas knew the question. Arthur knew the answer in the sharpness of his middle brother’s eyes.

Someone has to aye?

It was late afternoon before John could make his way over to them again. Arthur didn’t say anything about the tunnels to John and neither did Thomas. John looked quite keen when he’d shuffled over to them and neither were willing to spoil the mood.

“What’s it then?” Arthur asked after a moment of looking at John’s grinning face.

“Mail’s come in.”

Thomas gave John a simple nod of understanding. Arthur clapped his youngest brother on the shoulder, squeezing it slightly, and grinned as well. John was the only one who really had anyone writing to him with regularity -his wife Martha. It had been heartbreaking to see John leave her and his children behind when they’d joined up. None of the children understood that their father wouldn’t be coming back for quite some time, but Martha had held on to John so tightly.

John was fidgeting nervously with his cuffs. Clearly excited, but also anxious that he wouldn’t be getting anything, John always worried in vain. If Martha hadn’t written him a several page long letter, then he would have drawings from his children. John always got mail. While Arthur and Thomas only occasionally got letters from their youngest brother Finn, their sister Ada, or from their Aunt Polly.

Just when Thomas was about to reach out and grab his brother’s hand to stop his fidgeting the mail carrier arrived. It was the same squat man as usual moving down along the row of men with a large sack of mail. John was nearly bouncing with anxiety by the time they were reached.

“Shelby, John,” said the man.

John greedily took two envelopes from the man. One of which was quite thick, likely the containing pictures from his children, and the other not quite so thick and with visibly clearer writing on the front. He was lucky this time. A letter from Martha and his children’s pictures on the same day.

Thomas sighed. He was thankful his brother would be able to relax for at least a few days while he read and reread Martha’s letter. A sigh escaped Thomas’s lips as he leaned his head back against the muddy side of the trench.

“Greene, Ernest?” said the mail carrier in a slightly unsure tone.

Usually Ernest was sitting near the brothers when the mail came. It had been over a month since mail had come though. So, of course the mail carrier wouldn’t know about Ernest. Thomas sighed. He glanced over at Arthur who shrugged.

“Here.” Thomas said, propping himself back up and sticking out his hand. “Ern’s dead.”

The mail carrier gave a short nod. He tossed the letter to Thomas before moving on down the line. It wasn’t the first or the last time a dead soldier’s mail would show up to the front. Thomas wasn’t sure what possessed him to take the letter meant for Ernest, but he had. Arthur arched an eyebrow at him briefly. Giving a shrug, Thomas tucked it into his pocket. John was busy with his mail, but Thomas didn’t want to read Ernest’s letter in front of Arthur and his prying eyes.

After a few moments of relaxing silence, Thomas moved from the trench toward the short walkway to a spot a bit further behind the line where soldiers could take breaks and play cards or dice. There was a badly battered table and chairs placed over some shabbily laid boards. Mud still squelched up between the boards, but it still served to allow one to wipe their boots somewhat which Thomas did before taking a seat. He took out the letter and laid it on the table in front of him.

Ernest Greene

It was scrawled in a neat feminine hand which made opening it more difficult for Thomas. He didn’t recall Ernest ever mentioning having a girl back at home. All Ernest ever mentioned about home was that he had a sister, a few years younger than himself, that worked the phone lines in Birmingham. Though, looking at the script Thomas worried that Ernest may indeed have had a girl back home. Some men were like that after all. They wanted to keep their lives at home to themselves somewhat. Something this damn war can’t take away, an older soldier had told Thomas not long after he’d first arrived.

Breathing a deep sigh, Thomas hooked his finger under the seal and popped the letter open. He pulled out a single sheet of paper on which was more of the same slightly slanted writing. Thomas looked at it without really reading it for a long moment. He took out a cigarette and lit it as he began to read.

Dearest brother,

Thomas exhaled a puff of smoke. Pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand holding his cigarette, he paused for a long moment. Finally he moved his hand away to puff again on his smoke. Was it worse or better that the letter was from Ern’s sister instead of a sweetheart? He wasn’t sure. The letter was open now though if there were some principal of invaded privacy he’d already broken it.

I’m afraid your letters may be getting lost. The last one I received from you was marked near four months past and I’ve written you twice since then. It’s no matter though. You know I will always keep writing.

You’re my big brother after all and I do miss you so terribly. The house still feels so very empty at times without you here. You tell me not to worry for you though I simply can’t help it can I? It is difficult not to, you know that don’t you. Ever since father passed, I have no one else to care for.

And don’t go telling me to get myself a sweetheart again, will you?

I could scarcely imagine such a thing until I know you are looked after. On the note of looking after oneself, I have been keeping well. Your kitten, well cat now, lays on the end of my bed when I sleep. I wake early every morning to go to work at the operator’s office. I am enjoying the work so much there. It is such a far cry from the factory you used to work at.

Perhaps when you return home, I will even be able to take you to a special lunch! Wouldn’t that be a treat Ern?

I’ve enclosed a picture. Many of the girls at the operator’s office send them to their sweethearts. I’ll send one to you just so you don’t forget what I look like yes? A strange concept, I know, however I find myself looking at our old family photos just to see your face some days. I don’t want to forget the face of my brother either.

All my love,

Helen

Thomas hadn’t even realized the cigarette he’d lit at the beginning of the letter had burned down to the butt while he read. His eyes were oddly glassy. It was difficult to read those last few sentences. He didn’t even realize why until a single tear drop fell with a plop onto the paper. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his dirty hand, Thomas

Inhaling deeply, Thomas pulled out another cigarette and inhaled deeply. The calming sensation of the smoke filling his lungs allowed Thomas to open the envelope again. Just as she’d said, enclosed was a photograph. The girl in the photograph looked hardly nineteen. Her hair was a dark shade which Thomas could imagine must have matched Ernest’s own chocolate brown. Though, her eyes looked less like the same dark brown of her brother’s it was difficult to tell from the photo; though, there was a distinct light in them. Her lips were turned up into a shy smile like she wasn’t sure whether she ought to be smiling for the camera or not. Helen Greene was a lovely young woman decided Thomas.

Sighing, Thomas looked around. Quickly he noted another soldier who was penning a letter of their own nearby. The soldier was kind enough to offer him a piece of paper and allow Thomas to borrow his pen as he’d just finished his own letter. He felt a certain sense of urgentness about finishing his response for several reasons one being the mail carrier would leave soon and the second being the tunnel. Thomas would be going down into the tunnels very soon.

---

end note: Tommy’s letter back will be in the next part ;D

Taglist: none (send me an ask if you’d like to be added)

[gaycrouton]

Obvious

Words of Love 15/27 [Scully agrees to go to Mulder's high school reunion, but he makes a mistake when sending in the confirmation.]

Obvious: (adjective) easily perceived or understood; clear, self-evident, or apparent.

From years of working together, Scully had developed a keen sense of knowing when Mulder was up to something, and a nervous Mulder was always a sign that he was scared to tell her something. When she came into the office that morning, he was nicer than normal. He greeted her, he pulled out her chair for her, and he even had bought her a coffee. In all honesty, when he was nervous, he acted like a loyal puppy dog.

She was content in allowing it to go on for a while, it was nice having him dote on her, but she noticed he was practically gnawing a hole in his lip and she decided to put him out of his misery. “Is everything okay, Mulder?”

He glanced at her before casting his eyes downward yet again. “Um, yeah. It’s just-Scully, Do you remember when you said you’d come with me to my high school reunion?”

“Yes, it’s tomorrow right?” she answered, not knowing where he was going with this or why he would be getting nervous.

He nodded, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, “Yeah, um. I accidentally made a mistake when I sent in my confirmation.” At her raised eyebrow he pleaded, “promise you won’t get mad?”

“I promise to react accordingly.”

This didn’t comfort him, but he continued nonetheless, “When I sent the confirmation in the mail, I didn’t notice that I filled your name under the spouse section. Apparently word still travels fast for a bunch of rich people with too much time on their hands, so they made a big deal out of it and I was too embarrassed to correct them when they called to give me the time.” It rushed out his mouth Scully had a hard time following. When she she fully took in what he had just said, she was still a little confused.

“Why did they make such a big deal about it?” She didn’t understand what about the prospect of Mulder being married came to such a shock for these people.

He opened his mouth but closed it almost immediately. She watched him search for phrasing. Mulder was never at a loss for words, so Scully figured this was something he didn’t like to share, so she didn’t tease him. She just waited until he continued, “They had a nickname for me in highschool, the ‘Lone Fox’, ya know, a play on the lone wolf. I was basically the same way I am now, but in a dweeby teenage body. They told me they never expected I’d find anyone to put up with me.” He let out a self-deprecating chuckle, trying to brush off how much this truly bothered him.

It bothered Scully too. Mulder was the kindest and most thoughtful man she had ever met. He never talked much about his adolescence, but she had found out enough over the years to know it wasn’t pleasant. She knew after the abduction, both his parents treated him like it was his fault, one purposefully, the other a bit more subtle. Knowing that he couldn’t even escape that negative attention at school upset her. The thought of a young Mulder, eating alone, not having anyone care about his fantastic theories or listening to his witty jokes. It didn’t just make her sad, it infuriated her. She knew he had perfected the art of hiding his self-doubt and insecurities behind a mask of confidence, but she had been under that mask for a long time now. Secrets weren’t their thing.

“I’ll be your wife,” both their eyes widened at her bluntness and she quickly added, “-for the reunion, I’ll play wife. I don’t think they deserve you, so lets rub your happiness and success in their faces.” Scully felt butterflies in her stomach at the realization of what they were about to do, but at the same time she couldn’t help but feel excited. Being close to Mulder for hours on end had a definite appeal. From the way he was grinning, the sentiment was shared.

“Really Scully? I don’t want to make you feel obligated-” he already started trying to give her an out, but she cut him off.

“Nonsense. I have my grandparents rings we can use. We’ll just have to play lovey-dovey tomorrow and I’m sure it will be believable.” She honestly couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. This was so out of character for her. She just hated when Mulder doubted himself. She also didn’t want them to go and hear him be made fun of. He already was insecure, but this would just be his old peers rubbing his loneliness in his face.

“Thank you, Scully. I really appreciate this.” She gently nodded, and they resumed their work in an attempt to pretend like they didn’t just make a huge commitment, however farcical it may be.

The next day at work was the same. They both interacted the same as normal, continued their banter, but there was an undercurrent of excitement fueling the office. Before they left, Mulder told her he’d pick her up at seven, and she rushed home to get ready.

Her own class reunion wasn’t for a few more years, and she had never actually been to one before. She didn’t really know what the proper attire was, but she knew he grew up in Martha’s Vineyard so she figured it would be better to go a little fancier than she normally would. She had an emerald green cocktail dress that her mother had convinced her to buy, insisting that it brought out her eyes and complimented her hair. She put on black nylons before putting on the dress. It came to about mid-thigh, and was made of a thick velvet. The upper portion was off the shoulders and had long sleeves. Her favorite part though was the back, which was made entirely of black see-through lace. There was no way she could wear a bra with it, but the velvet in the front was thick enough that she wasn’t worried about anything poking through. Looking in the mirror she couldn’t help but smile, she looked hot.

She made her way to the bathroom and spent a generous amount of time applying, removing, and reapplying her makeup. It was never her strong suit, but she wanted to look good. She felt silly, but she wanted to woo Mulder, not that she was going to try anything, but a little bit of Mulder-attention was always welcomed. Especially tonight when they were going to be masquerading as a couple. Eventually, she achieved a good smokey eye, it was relatively tame, but it really accentuated her eyes. She had taken a shower earlier in the morning, so her natural curlier hair was present, and she decided to let it be. She remembered once Mulder came into her room when they were at a motel after her hair had dried from a shower. She was taken aback when he took a strand of her hair between his fingers and mumbled that it looked really good this way.

With his usual, uncanny perfect timing, Mulder knocked on the door as soon as she was ready. She padded to the door and opened it in a grand sweep. She knew she had been successful based on the look on his face. He whispered a shy greeting, but he couldn’t pull his eyes from raking over her body appreciatively. She didn’t mind, because she was doing the same thing to him. Mulder always wore nice suits, but this was exceptional. He looked sleek and clean in his rich black suit and she grinned when she saw an emerald green pocket square sticking out of his pocket. Always in sync, even unintentionally.

She met his eyes and blushed to see he had just been watching her ravish him with her eyes. She turned around and started walking into her apartment to get the heels that matched the dress, purposefully giving him a show to reveal her sheer, exposed back. She bit her lip to suppress a grin when she heard him intake a sharp breath. He tried to cover it up by clearing his throat and offering a sincere, “You look stunning, Scully.”

She slipped on her shoes and turned around to face him and she felt her breath catch in her throat at the look of pure adoration in his eyes. She chuckled off her shyness and replied, “You don’t look so bad yourself.” A quick realization had her walking back  into her bedroom, shouting over her shoulder, “Wait right there okay?” She went to her vanity and took the rings from off the counter. Her grandparents had left the rings to her, she was always their favorite, but she had never had any use for them until now.

Returning to the living room, she caught Mulder looking at the photos on her mantle; a family photo, one of her with her childhood pet, and, embarrassingly, one that had been given to her by the crime lab of her and Mulder. Of course, that was the one he was focused on, she had never told him that she had it. Pointing to it he asked, “What’s this?”

She started shyly, “Oh, the crime lab accidentally took that on a scene, and since it was actually a pretty good picture, they asked if I wanted to keep it.” The photo was of Mulder looking down at her as if she was the most important thing in the world, and her head was thrown back in laughter. Honestly she didn’t remember what he had said to her in a middle of a crime scene that she found so funny, but it was a really touching photo.

He nodded at her explanation and smiled back at the shot, taking as much enjoyment from it that she did. While he was distracted, she took his left hand from his hip, uncurled the fingers, and gently slid the ring on his finger. “A perfect fit!” She had honestly been a little worried about that. Glancing up she saw a surprised smile on his face, and she realized how intimate that had just been, she noticed she was still holding Mulder’s hand and she quickly let go in embarassment.

They left the apartment shortly after and made it to the resort in good time, she asked Mulder why the class reunion wasn’t being held at the school, let alone the correct state, and Mulder just said that they wanted as much attention as possible, which is why it was in the capital of the United States, at the most important venue possible. Walking in, Mulder’s descriptions of these people immediately fit. The ballroom was filled with people who looked like they loved being upper class. She was stunned that Mulder had grown up in this type of environment.

She heard a shrill woman scream ‘Fox’, and she felt Mulder’s hand slip around her waist, rubbing his thumb into the textured fabric. He bent down to whisper in her ear, “You ready for this, honey?” She could hear the amusement at the term of endearment lacing his voice.

She looked up at him, batting her lashes, and responded, “Always have been, sweetheart. ”

He smiled down at her when a bleach-blonde woman finished running up to them, speaking in a ridiculously squeaky voice, “Oh my god, Fox! We all just assumed you wouldn’t come! Is this your wife?”

“Hello, Lanie. I sent in a confirmation didn’t I? But yes, this is my wife, Dana.” Scully smiled at the use of her first name. While she loved that he was the only person that called her just ‘Scully’, it was almost like a nickname exclusively for him to use, it was nice hearing him say her first name. It was intimate. It made her feel like he was recognizing her as a woman when he did it.

The woman, apparently named Lanie, turned her full attention to Scully. “Wow, you’re absolutely stunning! Fox was a total geeky loner in high school, we always thought he’d die alone, we never imagined the possibility a woman, let alone one as attractive as yourself, would want to be with him.” The bitch said this all with a, what she probably thought to be sympathetic, smile on her face.

It took every ounce of Scully’s willpower not to drop her jaw in shock. She could not believe the audacity of the woman in front of her. What really threw Scully was that she said it as if Scully was going to agree with her. She tightened her grip around Mulder before replying with a phony smile, “Oh, well my husband’s an absolutely brilliant individual. It takes one to know one which is probably why he didn’t have many acquaintances here.” She knew being so rude off the bat probably wasn’t the best thing to do, but with the way the woman beamed at her, her comment wasn’t wrong. She turned to Mulder and saw pure amusement dancing across his face.

“Oh my god, you guys are so sweet together,” the naive girl squealed. She quickly reached into her purse and put two name tags onto Mulder and Scully’s corresponding chests. She took a glance on hers and was charmed to see that it read ‘Dana Mulder’. She saw on Mulder’s face that he really enjoyed it as well.

The woman left them to their own devices almost immediately after, simply directing them to the refreshments. They meandered their way over while Mulder casually shared what he knew about people as they passed by. When they got to the punch bowl, Mulder scooped a hearty amount into a glass on the table while Scully grabbed a complimentary water. They took a seat at a table in the corner and enjoyed the rare time they got to share together, Mulder getting up to refill their respective glasses a few times within an hour period.

She noticed something was off around the fourth time he came back to the table. He accidentally bumped into it with uncharacteristic clumsiness, then muttered a quick “Pardon Me.”

Scully raised her eyebrow, “Did you just say pardon me to an inanimate object?” Mulder looked at her and shrugged, a bemused expression on his face. Scully, on a hunch, grabbed his glass and took a drink. Her suspicions were immediately confirmed. “Mulder, did you know your drink has alcohol in it?”

He shook his head with a little more lag than normal, “No, Scully, that’s punch.”

Scully laughed a little bit at her now-drunk partner. For as long as she knew him, Mulder didn’t drink. She didn’t pry, but she had always presumed it was due to the fact his father drank in excess and wasn’t always the kindest. She supposed that, since the drink was mixed so well, he didn’t recognize it.

“Yeah, it is punch, but punch with an egregious amount of vodka in it.” His mouth made a little ‘o’ and she couldn’t help but laugh. He was a little more talkative than usual, but she guessed she was too distracted by their closeness to pick up on the fact he was getting drunk. She couldn’t lie, she was a bit excited about seeing what he was like.

Before they could continue, a tall, pudgy man around Mulder’s age came to their table. “Fox! Long time no see. I see you brought the wife.”

She took a look at Mulder and saw his eyes light up as if he had forgotten their little charade. Scooting his chair a little closer to hers, wrapping his arm ungracefully around her shoulder, he exclaimed, “Yes I did! This is my wife, Dana Mulder.” He placed the hand, not around her arm, over her hands on the table, slipping his hand in between to take hold of her left hand.

The man smiled at Scully politely, “Nice to meet you, Dana, my name’s Matthew. You look very lovely tonight.”

Before she could reply, Mulder beat her to it enthusiastically, “Isn’t she? I don’t know how I got so lucky. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He kissed her cheek for emphasis and she didn’t know if she was blushing at the contact or his words.

Matthew, who was quickly becoming Scully’s favorite classmate of Mulder’s, smiled at the display of affection. “Happiness looks good on you, Fox. I’ll leave you two be, got to get back to my special lady.” He waved a quick goodbye, and they were left alone once again.

“You know that, right?” Mulder said unprompted.

“Know what?” Scully was confused by his meaning.

“That you’re absolutely gorgeous.” She blushed at his words and avoided his gaze, but that just prompted him to continue. “You’re so cute when you blush, but regardless, I’m not just saying that you're gorgeous because you’re dressed up so elegantly right now, I think that all the time.” His words weren’t slurred, but they lacked his usual eloquence, giving away his drunken state.

Throwing him a bone, she responded with a shy, “That’s very nice of you to say. Thank you, Mulder.”

“I know it’s just pretend, but I’m so happy you’re my wife right now,” He was smiling from ear to ear, giving her the same look as he did in the photograph on her mantle. He was gently tracing his name attached to her own on the name tag on her upper breast. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact Mulder was acting like a drunk college girl; absolutely complementary and enthusiastic.

“Me too,” she said it so softly she assumed he wouldn’t hear, but of course nothing ever got past Mulder.

“I wish it wasn’t pretend. Thank you for coming with me, I love spending time with you,” he mumbled, taking a drink from her water after the words left his mouth.

Mulder always had a way with expressing those sentiments to her, but never so openly. She would be lying if she said it wasn’t extremely flattering. She couldn’t help but fear that it was the alcohol talking and that he might regret saying it later, so she didn’t want to reveal how much this meant to her. At least, not to the full extent.

She was immediately distracted when Mulder abruptly stood up and declared, “I want to dance with you.” Laughing, Scully decided to indulge him, taking his hand and following him to the dance floor.

She couldn’t place the name of the song that was playing, but it was slow and smooth. Mulder held onto one of her hands while the other wrapped around her hip, going to far back as to rest on the small of her back, pressing her to him. Scully smiled and rested her arm over his shoulder. For being drunk, Mulder’s dancing was pretty impressive, though it was more like swaying.She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his heart beating in his chest, relishing this, normally forbidden, moment of closeness. She felt completely embraced in all the senses with Mulder, specifically, she was enjoying the smell of his cologne and feeling his hands on her body. Scully could feel movement happening on her back, and she realized that he was playing with the lace back of the dress. She was amused when he rubbed a line across where her bra would have been, if she had been wearing one. Leaning down to her ear, he whispered, “You nearly killed me with this dress.”

Grinning, she responded honestly, “Good, that was my intention.” This earned her another full-watt Mulder smile.

They continued swaying for a few more songs before she noticed Mulder was getting a little tired. She realized it because he started resting his cheek atop her head like she was a pillow. She might have assumed that he had fallen asleep if he wasn’t still dancing.

She was further reassured he was awake when she heard him mumble into her hair, stating the obvious, “I love you so much, and I will be your husband someday.”

She felt tears well up in her eyes and a smile break out across her face at the determination in his voice. She squeezed him around the middle before mumbling into his chest, “I’m sure you will.”

[lookatthisdork]

Opinion piece: DC House of Horror (2017)

First of all SPOILERS for DC House of Horror!

Second, this is only my OPINION. It might be unpopular. It might even be offensive. But I want to talk about this before going back to my normally scheduled “hey look at this cool stuff” and “it’s stupid AU time!” content.

I did not read the Green Arrow and Captain Marvel/Shazam stories since I’m not currently invested in those characters. *shrugs*

The rest are...meh. The whole series seems to have Keith Giffen credited with the plot ideas, but each story has a different script writer. So I have no idea who I’m criticizing in each of these blurbs. Probably Keith. I don’t know.

Bump in the Night (feat Superman; by Edward Lee)

I have admittedly little experience with horror movie conventions, but I’m pretty sure this was aiming for the opening of a monster movie. Creepy, dangerous alien falls from space, kills the locals before making its way to more populated areas. The poor schmuck that finds it first always dies quickly and painfully, which is what happened to Pa Kent here. Kind of a cheap death, but it fits the genre convention.

The dramatic irony of Martha Kent trying to call her husband and her refusing to leave the house when something strange is happening outside were pulled off pretty well. Overall, I think she reads as a spirited but ultimately doomed horror protagonist.

My problem with this is that the alien (”Clark/Baby Superman”) reads as a complete cardboard-cutout monster cliche. Why did he kill Pa and Ma Kent? No reason is even alluded to. He just kills them because they’re there.

(If I were writing this, I would have played up the naive-creepy-child factor. Have Clark accidentally kill Jonathan Kent since he’s a child who doesn’t know his own strength and has never seen a dead person before. If you want to keep the alien-vibe, have him not recognize that he killed a person. Imagine a kid using a magnifying glass on an ant, then replace the ant with Pa and Ma Kent. I like to think that would have been more memorable.)

Man’s World (feat Wonder Woman; by Mary Sangiovanni)

Well, they definitely have the aesthetic they were going for. The mixed chronology is actually not as confusing as I was expecting since the artists made good use of the colors and a wardrobe change to help guide the reader through the flashbacks. I actually felt creeped out by this one.

The only problem is...this doesn’t read like Diana AT ALL. Having Diana not speak English is a great way to keep her menacing, but it also destroys any ability for the audience to know what’s going on in her head. Without her words, we have only her actions, and...she’s just going around killing people? Who haven’t done anything?? (Except the last guy, but he’s one out of six on-page deaths.)

What is her motivation? Why is she doing these things? What happened to Wonder Woman, righteous warrior and defender of the innocent?

(This would have been excellent if it was a villain character instead of Diana, just saying.)

Crazy for You (feat Harley Quinn; by Bryan Smith and Brian Keene)

Is it a ghost? Or is it a hallucination? Both? I’m not sure, and I love that I’m not sure.

That said, I’m definitely not a Harley expert...does she read in-character? I don’t know, she feels flat to me. And something about cutting hard away from witnessing the murders. Unreliable narrator is in effect, I want more concrete details of the murders from Chuck’s point of view.

Last Laugh (feat Batman; by Nick Cutter)

Ha. Hahaha. This is the one I reblogged panels from yesterday. 

Good things first: capitalizing on Batman-Joker parallels has been done since forever, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I think the opening and closing scenes are well-narrated and well-composed. The much smaller batcave and the gun are good hints that something’s very different about this universe. The Joker’s voice was pretty good, for the most part. I wouldn’t change much of anything in the first half of this.

The second half...hahaha.

My beef with this one isn’t that Jason was killed; it was that he was killed for shock value and as an undisguised reference to super-(in)famous Death in the Family. It does not add constructively to the narrative at all. Last Laugh is clearly a hard AU with only the barest resemblance to canon; leaning so hard on canon that you only have one panel (technically two panels) with Jason in your story means that I just get angry instead of mournfully distraught when Jason is killed. It’s cheap and unearned in my opinion.

More broadly, there’s mixed signals as to the nature of Bruce’s delusion. Is he going around beating/killing people dressed as Batman? Or does he do his murders specifically dressed as the Joker? The later red panels indicate the former while the zoom-in on his locker at the end implies the latter. This whole story would have been much stronger if the writer had picked one interpretation and stuck with it from beginning to end.

(I would go with a strong Batman/Joker divide where Batman is still the vigilante and the Joker is the only “one” doing the crimes. Have the blue and red panels read as Batman vs Joker for most of the first read-through, but also have them consistently show Delusion vs Truth for the second read-through. I would also have Joker’s call-outs be a little more ambiguous so the twist actually sneaks up on you as opposed to be super obvious from the first red panel on.

And goddamn, if you’re going to kill Jason, at least have him show up in the narrative beforehand as Robin in the Delusion panel and ordinary-child-Jason in the Truth panel. Have him walk in on something he shouldn’t have, which leads to his murder and Bruce’s subsequent final mental break. Hell, maybe even imply that Robin was never really a thing outside Bruce’s head to really hammer home the death of a child who did nothing wrong.

Work for the tragedy, is all I’m saying.)

Blackest Day (feat Hal Jordan and Justice League; by Brian Keene)

In my opinion, this is the strongest of the lot. Zombie Barry compromising the moon base - because he was looking for help and didn’t realize he was already doomed - is excellent. And terrifying, because Zombie Barry could start the apocalypse by himself, imagine how many people he could bite in a minute. Liked how Hal held onto hope all the way up until he felt himself changing, then decided to take a Last Stand rather than let himself become part of the problem.

Superman being off-planet was cheap. The timeline for the End of the World seems super contracted based on Constantine’s transmission and the way the moon base was wholly in the dark. Wonder Woman and J’onn died very easily. Would have liked more fighting off the zombies, but this was short enough that there wasn’t a lot of time for that.

Having the World actually End...I’m never a fan of complete annihilation by zombies. (And what about Themyscira? Atlantis? Is DC Earth really completely depopulated?)

(I’m just saying, post-zombie-apocalypse AU. I’d read it.)

Unmasked (feat Two Face; by Wrath James White...that’s a weird name)

I think this one’s the weakest of the ones I read. I may not be the most well-read when it comes to Havey/Two-Face, but ugh. Serial Killer Harvey is something I don’t need in an official AU. Not to mention that that is not how skinning a person works - connective tissue between the skin and the muscle would mean that peeling each face would take way more time than shown. 

The Leviathan thing also takes up way too many panels and accomplishes nothing. NOTHING.

[little-black-dress-24]

Pater’s Rose 2

The story continues..... 

I hope you will like it and I would be happy if you tell me what you liked or not!!! 

Lots of love 

E. xx 

The morning sun wakes me up and I smile with my eyes closed. Burying my face deeper in the white clean pillow, I open my tired eyes. I guess it’s a beautiful day waiting for me outside. And for the first time I feel excitement; what will I do today? Nothing here is compulsory, like my days in London. Looking at the alarm clock on my nightstand I am startled. 9 am. I slept very long. With a satisfied smile I fall back into the pillows and close my eyes, feeling a long missed feeling. No pressure, no expectations which I have to fulfill.

Pulling back the duvet I creep out of the bed, slipping in my expensive slippers, walking towards the window which is covered with curtains. I pull the soft rosé coloured curtains away.

The sun warms my face and my white nightgown shines bright in the light. It’s a beautiful day.

Normally I would be on my way to Mrs Smith. She and other women meet at her house for petty talks, exchanging the latest gossip. One of my duties. After the hideous tea I visit the orphanage. William doesn’t know that I help the nurses there. He would boil with indignation. Shaking my head,  I try to dislodge the thoughts from my brain.

I open the window, and the soft breeze tickles my skin, I let my nightgown blow in the wind. I love the fresh morning air. The day is new; anything can happen. The day is fresh, unused.

At some distance I see the sea and the top of the white lighthouse, and some roofs of the little village. The green is lush, and I feel the urge to feel it on my bare feet, like Olivia. I wish I could be that young again.

“Good morning, sleepy head!” my sister pushes the pram, looking up to my window. I grin.

Her hair is pinned up in a bun and some curls hang loosely around her neck. She stops walking under my window, bobbing the pram up and down with her left hand. Her right hand rests on her forehead to protect her eyes from the sun. Her wedding ring shines in the garish natural light. Emily looks up with a bright smile on her face. It reminds me of earlier days, where she pushed her doll’s pram carelessly over the green lawn of our parents’ house, running away from our older brother Michael. The dogs barking and running over the lawn with her. But now she carries her own child over her own lawn in a real pram. Michael is grown up, a proud soldier who is ready to fight for his fatherland. And I? Whatever became of me?

“Come down! It will be a beautiful day!” I nod, turning around with flying hair, closing the window and dressing myself in a rosé colored skirt and a white light blouse. My hair is braided, unusual for me, because in London my maid creates extravagant hairstyles.

Running light-footed down the stairs, my hand dances over the wooden banister, which feels like the old one at our parents house and just in this moment I feel twelve again. Heart light, skirts flying and hair braided.

I run through the living room towards the wide open french doors, the white curtains blowing in the morning breeze, and I nearly overlook John, who is sitting in a white garden chair, reading the newspaper. A cup of coffee is standing in front of him and he folds the newspaper, looking at me through his glasses.

“Oii, there is someone in a hurry! Good morning, my favourite sister in law! It’s a beautiful day; I won’t stop you. Emily is with the little one out there!” he smiles and winks.

“Good morning John!” I say breathlessly. “You’re right it’s a beautiful day!” I turn around to look at him, and my skirt swings like the excitement in my heart.

“Darling, I’m always right, it’s an unwritten law” he grins, holding the newspaper in one hand as he bends forward to sip on his coffee.

“Oh John!” my sister exclaims as she parks the pram. Carrying her little daughter, she steps up the wooden stairs of the terrace.

“She caught me. She’s the actual regent.” John stands up and kisses my sister’s forehead and then the little head of his daughter. It’s pure harmony, and I feel like an intruder right in this moment. I know that I’m always welcome but I feel uncomfortable. I have an own house in London, my own man, but no children. My heart grows heavy, and I smile at them sadly.

“Let us see if Martha has something to eat for my sleepy head.” Emily says with a cheeky grin on her sensual lips.

*****

We’re sitting outside under an umbrella, eating a delicious cake, which Martha had baked. Putting the fork on my empty plate I fall back, laughing, I touching my stomach.

My sister’s eyes become serious.

“Will you write William?” she asks me, soothing the baby. I close my eyes, looking to the side.

“You can ignore me, but I will ask you again.” she says in a quiet voice and I know that she will.

“I don’t want to talk about him right now.” I say feebly, fixing the roses which waggle with  their heads in the balmy breeze.

“Well, do you like Pater Styles? He is a nice and handsome man! He is such an enrichment for our parish!” She sips on her orange juice, and my head turns to her immediately as I hear his name.

“He is very young. Why is he here in this wasteland? He could be in Rome. I bet he is here in exile.” I say, narrowing my eyes at my sister.

“Maybe he defied the vow of abstinence,” I say with a feigned laugh.

My sister rolls her eyes and strokes Josephine’s little head. She became older, I can see little wrinkles around her eyes: laughter lines. It fills my heart with happiness that she can laugh and that she’s happy with her life here. But I can also see a little worry line in the middle of her brow. A typical worry wrinkle of a mother. And her eyes are full of love.

“He told me it was the obedience.” Emily says.

“Oh,” is my response.

“He teaches the children here in the village. Only a handful but I guess he does his job very, very well. Olivia is keen on him; she raves of him. The older people love him too. The funeral of old Mrs Miller was heartbreaking. He found nice words for the elderly; you know you shouldn’t speak bad about dead people,” she waves her hand.

“Oh Emily!” I laugh. “I think he is a thinker; he has a heavy soul.” I blink against the sun.

“Maybe. He visits us often; he and John ride out together. But he seems like a man who stands over all and nothing can jar him.”

We’re sitting there for a while, talking about him, God, the family, avoiding the most important theme: me.

I frown as I hear a car.

“Auntie,” it’s Olivia’s light voice. I turn my head and see the little girl running towards us.  

Her blonde curls blow in the wind and her white dress shines, and the giggle delights my heart. I smile at her, standing up and spreading my arms to welcome her.

I bend forward to embrace my little niece. I stroke over her blond curls as I look up, seeing him standing there. His black cassock flutters in the wind and his hair swings as he walks towards us. He has his hands crossed behind his back, like a typical father. He looks down on his feet as he walks across the green lawn.

My heart runs, my chest raises in an unsteady rhythm.

“Pater, Styles! We talked about you” Emily says, and I blush, trying to avoid his green eyes. But nothing escapes them, not even my eyes. A magical sparkle is in his eyes, and my heart skips a beat as he jumps lightly onto the first step of the terrace. His crucifix jumps and lands with a muffled sound on his chest.  

“I hope the ladies talked only about the good things.” He has a crooked smile on his lips. I could watch his face for an eternity. The smile signifies his dimples, and I swallow, pressing Olivia more tightly around my body like a human shield.

He has to narrow his eyes as he walks around the table.

“May I?” he asks pulling one of the white rattan chairs back.

“I insist.” Emily says, but before she can add anything, I open my mouth. My voice sounds strange, and I have a dry mouth.

“Are there any bad things about a priest?” I look him directly in the eyes. He stops in his movement, half sitting, supporting himself with his hands on the armrest of the chair, looking up to me.

“My child, every soul has abysses. We’re only human. The flesh is weak.” he says and every boyish charm has disappeared from his eyes. The green pupils rest too long on mine. The dark in his eyes tells me that there is something inside him, something mysterious.

All the other men are predictable, easy to read, but I don’t know what it is about him. Is it the cassock? The spiritual aura? I can’t place the air of mystery..

“You’re thinking intensely about my answer.” He folds his hands and rests his chin on them. I must have a deep furrow between my brows. My sister smiles in amusement, and his crooked smile appears again on his lips.

“Pater, she overthinks everything. She’s our thinker.”

Olivia fidgets herself free from me, and I feel vulnerable and naked. With a trembling soul I take place on my chair again.

“That’s dangerous,” is all he says. And I know exactly what he means. I know that he knows that I have glimpsed high society life in London, despite not knowing that I it is my life.

“Pater, do you want anything to drink? I will call for Libby.” Emily asks him.

“Maybe a coffee?” he smiles.

“Mummy, can I go to the horses?” Olivia interrupts.

My sister stands up, still with little Josephine in her arms, nodding to Olivia.

“Do you want to ride out today with John? He left a few hours ago, but I’m sure he will be back soon,” she adds.

“No, Emily. I have some obligations.” he responds.  With a short nod, she walks into the dark house. I look after her until the darkness swallows her completely.

I sit here alone with him here in the garden. Kneading my hands nervously. I can feel how his eyes rest on me.

“So you won’t be present tonight at dinner?” I ask shyly, looking up from my hands. A part of me hopes he will say that he wants to be there, but the other part, the rational part, says that he is a priest, a man of God.

“No, I visit the orphanage every Wednesday.” he says, and I can see something sad in his face as he thinks of the lonely children. His green eyes looks so gloomy, and all I want is to touch him. I want to press my hand on his cheek.

“It’s a very specific place. But everyone deserves the love of God, especially the children,” his voice is so deep and I could listen to him hours, days, nights.

“I know such places,” I say quietly, looking in his green eyes which start to sparkle. “I used to visit the orphanage in London.” He raises his eyebrows, and I have the feeling he thinks that I do this for my own reputations, only so I can say that I do charity work.

“I do it for them. Not for me or any status in the society of London. It’s no happy place, all the little faces, all the big dark eyes which are looking up to you. Nobody knows that I visit them.” The last sentences is scarcely audible.

“You don’t need to justify” he says, leaning forward, touching my hands. His warm hands feel pleasurable on my cold ones. Slowly he strokes with his thumb over my hand and in this moment everything is standing still. The wind stops blowing through the flowers, the bees stop humming, my heart stops beating, only his forefinger and his thumb are cycling over my shivering skin. Looking at our intertwined hands, I turn my head up to look at him, meeting his glance and there is this moment. This secret moment only two people can have when their hearts beat together and for that few seconds our hearts pounding together.

“Here is your coffee,” my sister says as she steps out. His hands rest a few more seconds on mine, and I slide my hand over his. It’s a small gesture, but it means so much for me to touch his hand again, feeling his skin on mine. He looks at me, and the sadness returns to his eyes, but this time it’s a different sadness, maybe despair? He withdraws his hands, standing up to receive the cup of coffee. The white cup with flowers on it looks little in his big hands, and I catch myself of thinking of his hands touching my hands again.

“I don’t want to be rude, Emily. But it’s time for me to leave.” He says, looking seriously into her eyes. She nods and smiles, like a mother who has to let her child go.

He sips on the coffee and puts it down on the little table in front of us while he stands up, taking Emily’s hand in both hands and kissing her hand.  

“Thank you, my dear.” he says to her, smiling.

I stand up too, throwing my white napkin on my chair. He releases Emily’s hands. His broad shoulders turn towards me and the summer breeze plays with his hair and with his cassock.

Touching my arm, he slides down until he reaches my hand.

“Goodbye” is the only thing he says to me. He turns away, walking over the lawn to the fence, he doesn’t look back, and it breaks my heart a little bit that he doesn’t look back. His shoulders move smoothly as he walks and once again he runs his fingers, which held mine so tenderly, through his hair.

As the engine of the car starts, I sit again in my chair, embracing the arm rest with my hands. Why does it feel like a goodbye for a long time? I know he is a divine and I’m a married woman. But we’re only humans made of flesh right?

[jessicakehoe]

Julia Garner Isn’t Who You Think She Is

Julia Garner is hard to miss—even though the 25-year-old actress is roughly the size of a woodland sprite. (OK, she’s five foot five, which isn’t even that short.) When I get to the diner where we agreed to meet, she’s already there, leaning forward in a booth, wearing a black turtleneck that seems ready to provide cover should she need to disappear. But that would be difficult. Garner the actress—you’ll recognize her if your taste in film and television runs toward the unsettling—can and does disappear into her roles, but Garner the person is unmistakable.

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It’s her hair: a controlled eruption of blond curls that would make William Katt—you know, the guy from The Greatest American Hero—swoon with envy. You don’t see curls like hers on television too often—at least not since the days of Chrissy Seaver on Growing Pains or maybe the first season of Felicity. It’s one of the subjects I intend to raise with her: how curls are often cut, straightened, covered up or otherwise discriminated against in showbiz and how they might make someone a hero.

There’s probably a metaphor in there, too.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

She brightens when I approach, and we immediately fall into an easy conversation. She’s open and friendly, despite the unconscious motions of millennial discomfort: pulling at her collar and then running her hands through her hair, gathering it up and moving it from one side to the other, like a kid who doesn’t want to eat her potatoes. Before I can ask about that hair—or anything else for that matter—we’re interrupted by one of the diners on his way out. He’s sporting a buzz cut and a bright green shirt he likely got at the “Why Yes, I Am an Embarrassing Dad Store.”

“Is that Ruth we got here?” he says, not acknowledging my presence. “We just finished Ozark, and I thought it was you!” Garner is just as gracious with him as she was with me when I said hello. The man compliments her work and then heads out before anything becomes uncomfortable. A few moments later, he’s back with a camera. “My wife is going to love this,” he beams.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

It was almost as if the whole interaction were a bit of theatre orchestrated for my benefit, to show not only Garner’s reach but also her low-key grace despite her growing fame. It wasn’t, of course. But since I had wondered whether Garner, who has been acting for nearly a decade but mostly in indies, has started getting recognized, it was a bit uncanny.

And, fine, asking whether an actress gets recognized is about as groundbreaking as asking who she’s wearing on a red carpet. But it seemed like an especially appropriate question for Garner. Because her biggest role at the moment—at least until Dirty John, a true-crime series, based on a popular podcast, that came out late last year—is as Ruth, the whip-smart, shit-talking quasi-outlaw/sidekick to Jason Bateman’s Marty on Netflix’s Ozark.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

“When did that start happening?” I ask.

“It actually first started in Brooklyn,” replies Garner. “Because I was in indies, that seemed to be where I was recognized most often.”

And now look: That girl from Martha Marcy May Marlene—and a surprising number of other cult-based works, like Electrick Children, where she played a Mormon teen who believes she was impregnated by rock music, or Waco, where she was one of David Koresh’s Branch Davidian wives—is all grown up and getting spotted in Manhattan. If you can make it there….

Garner isn’t anything like the characters she plays. She doesn’t sound like them, and she doesn’t act like them. Granted, this is true of most actors (though, ha ha, certainly not all). But, like in the biblical “Parable of the Sower,” she plants the seeds of her characters in fertile ground: They grow out of who she is. Take Ruth in Ozark, for example. Garner has managed to create a character that’s intimidating, resourceful and strong while keeping this thread of vulnerability humming just under the surface. “The vulnerability is the easy part,” she tells me. “Ruth’s strength—that was the challenge.”

“The vulnerability is the easy part. Ruth’s strength—that was the challenge.”

Plus, she already had that thick, rusted Missouri accent from an earlier role in Tomato Red. She figured she’d impress the producers with it in her audition for Ruth. “Casting offices in New York are tiny,” she tells me. “So while I’m waiting, I can hear all these other auditions for the same part. And none of them are trying out the accent.” She decided she’d forget the accent, too. Only, she couldn’t. “I had prepared so much with the accent that I couldn’t even remember my lines when I tried to do it with my normal voice.” Obviously, breaking out her Missouri twang worked out for her—spoiler alert: she got the part—but the fact that she almost caved to peer pressure of her own making is telling.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

You get the sense that, like a lot of people who were painfully shy as kids, Garner has what my family used to call the Appropriateness Gene. It’s a potent blend of sensitivity, empathy and self-awareness that makes, for instance, watching cringe-comedy nearly impossible unless there are ample pillows nearby to hide under. Basically, the Appropriateness Gene—which has yet to be identified by geneticists—makes you want to do what’s right/expected, and it causes you pain when others don’t. “My mom used to get me to eat vegetables by making me feel guilty,” explains Garner. “Like, ‘You don’t want these carrots to fail in their life’s purpose, do you?’”

“My mom used to get me to eat vegetables by making me feel guilty. Like, ‘You don’t want these carrots to fail in their life’s purpose, do you?’”

Famous people will often talk about how awkward, nerdy or generally uncool they were growing up. This is either an attempt to seem relatable or proof that everyone goes through periods where they feel as if they don’t fit in. It usually feels disingenuous—except when Garner says it, you believe her. “I was one of those kids whose parents were actually worried about them. Like, ‘She’s such a sweet girl,’” she says, pretending to be her parent, “‘but is she going to be OK?’”

Acting was actually what brought her out of her shell, though she still identifies as a bit of a nerd, even now. She looks down and her voice drops, as if she’s about to confess something that will be painful for both of us: “I really like Vanderpump Rules.” When that doesn’t convince me of her current nerd bona fides, she tells me she knits, too. The shame.

“I was one of those kids whose parents were actually worried about them. Like, ‘She’s such a sweet girl, but is she going to be OK?’”

She lowers her voice often, actually, apologizing in advance for saying something horrible—like how parents maybe shouldn’t force their children to perform before they are ready—that never turns out to be horrible at all. She can’t help it. It’s a function of her Appropriateness Gene.

But that (entirely fictional) gene might also be the key to outsized talent. After all, has there ever been a shy, sensitive child who isn’t also a keen observer and preternatural listener? Even now, that’s what Garner notices when she watches other people perform: if, and how well, they listen. “I can always tell; that’s the most important thing,” she says. “It’s about figuring out what a character wants. It sounds horrible, maybe, but people only wake up in the morning because they want something from the day. If you listen, you know what that is. And then you react to that.”

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

The harder you listen, the more present you can be. “If I can remember what I did in a scene, I will ask to do it over. Because it means I wasn’t in the moment,” she says. That’s the other side of the shy/sensitive/self-aware coin: an inherent perfectionism that is both inspiring and exhausting. “If I’m not in pain—if something isn’t hurting—at the end of the day, I worry that I haven’t worked hard enough,” she says. “I just want to know that I’ve done everything I can.”

“If I’m not in pain—if something isn’t hurting—at the end of the day, I worry that I haven’t worked hard enough.”

But that all-or-nothing, go-for-broke commitment begins before the official work even starts: These days, Garner doesn’t even go in for an audition unless she knows she’ll be crushed if she doesn’t get the part.

There’s something refreshing about that passion, something dangerous. But it’s also the perfect response to an industry that has a habit of breaking people down and flattening them. Of taking their curls and straightening them. “I know I’ll never be cast as, like, the popular girl because there will always be someone prettier,” she says. “And I can’t play a typical daughter because I don’t look like anyone. I want to take advantage of being the New Thing, because I’ve learned that there will always be a new New Thing.” And so why not only go up for roles that interest you—that only you can bring to life?

“I want to take advantage of being the New Thing, because I’ve learned that there will always be a new New Thing.”

And maybe that will change as Garner’s career progresses. Even some of the best actors in history have accepted roles and done work they clearly weren’t passionate about. Hell, whole careers have been built on a performer’s need to pay a mortgage(s). But in a perfect world, wouldn’t everyone have Garner’s level of passion? Wouldn’t everyone be willing to work until they hurt and listen until they were lost in the moment? A perfect world doesn’t necessarily mean an easy one. Perfect can be messy, even if you don’t see it that often, especially on television.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

1/9

Julia Garner

Dress, $31,880, Valentino. Earrings, $55, Tuleste.

2/9

Julia Garner

Dress, $5,510, and earrings, $1,880, Dolce & Gabbana.

3/9

Julia Garner

Dress and pants, prices upon request, Miu Miu. Shoes, $5,040, Dolce & Gabbana.

4/9

Julia Garner

Dress, $3,230, Saint Laurent by Anthony Vaccarello. Hat, stylist’s own.

5/9

Julia Garner

6/9

Julia Garner

Jacket and romper, prices upon request, Louis Vuitton.

7/9

Julia Garner

Dress, $31,880, Valentino. Earrings, $55, Tuleste.

8/9

Julia Garner

Top, $1,370, Dsquared2. Skirt and shoes, stylist’s own. Earrings, $80, Tuleste.

9/9

Julia Garner

Dress, $31,880, Valentino. Earrings, $55, Tuleste.

The post Julia Garner Isn’t Who You Think She Is appeared first on FASHION Magazine.

Julia Garner Isn’t Who You Think She Is published first on https://borboletabags.tumblr.com/

[wherelegendscamefrom]

The Interview

Francine tried to ignore her nerves as she waited patiently on the fine upholstered chair, waiting for her interview. The other mammals who had come been called in had already left, each it seemed had bit of smirk to their muzzles as they strode away. Most were middle aged females, like her; most with backgrounds in childcare, like her; all well-dressed prey, unlike her…..the only predator in the waiting room. The only fox on the grounds of the estate.

She knew it to be a long shot, going in for this interview. Lord and Lady Hopps were well to do and seemed quite kind, but they were rabbits. As welcoming as they were to mammals of all shapes and sizes in public, what rabbit would want to hire a fox to help raise their ever growing warren. Even one with her impressive background and experience, not to mention the glowing reviews.

Still, the advertisement had been too appealing and her husband and son were too excited for her to turn back and leave now. Smiling, Francine’s hand reached into her coat pocket to wrap itself around the small toy solider inside it. Her son, Nicholas, had insisted it would bring her good luck. And with that beautiful little face smiling up at her with green eyes matching her own, she could not refuse.

A slight jump escaped her when the door to the study opened and a gentle voice cut through the silence and her thoughts.

“Mrs. Wilde, thank you for waiting, and I am terribly sorry for the delay,” Lady Bonnie Hopps of Bunnyburrow stood smiling with welcome at the open doorway, gesturing the vixen into the room. “I hope the wait wasn’t too tedious?”

Francine beamed back. “Not at all. I dare say it was long enough to gather my nerves and insure my whiskers were crumb free from breakfast!”

Though the vixen laughed at her own statement and was not alone in the mirth, she kicked herself for the foolish comment and settled in on the ornamental couch opposite of Lord Stewart Hopps.

Did you really just say that to your potential employer, you fool! She thought wildly.

But Lady Hopps laughed happily.

“I dare say, a good sense of humor is going to very much needed to handle our brood, Mrs. Wilde! And wit, as my kits tend to try many a sly trick to get out of bath and bed time. With your resume and recommendation from Sir and Madam Brocktree, I daresay you will get on well here,” Lady Hopps said, her eyes sparkling. “I did get in touch with the school too, NorthWoods Privet School, in Zootopia. They have nothing but the best to say of you and your time there. May I ask why you left?”

The lady had sat herself next to her husband and poised a pen over the notepad, waiting for her response.

“Unfortunately, the new administration that took over was not so keen on foxes, especially around their youngest students. I and my colleagues were hard pressed to pull up the personal files of all the students I had taught to show that I was indeed a positive influence in their young lives.” At this, Francine sighed. “Their counter argument was that, even though I was the primary educator for the class, my success rate was the result of the overall environment of the school. Out of fear of damaging my reputation for extraordinary patience, I felt it best to resign. I had been offed a job as governess to the Brocktree’s children, so I was not without a gap in my teaching career.”

Francine finished with a small nod and smile, reflecting on how quickly the four badger cubs have grown. And she still had yet to bring Nick to meet them! They would have to arrange a reunion soon.

Lord Hopps, who had been silent and listening with just a hint of distrust in his eyes, spoke for the first time since her entrance.

“And this seven year gap? May I inquire as to that Mrs. Wilde?”

The statement and accusatory tone earned a sharp glare from his wife, but the vixen simply chuckled and regarded the Lord good naturedly.

“Of course, my lord! My husband and were blessed with a beautiful male kit of our own. He is quite the handful, I must say! It made watching a group of toddling cubs at lunchtime feel like a quiet vacation.” Smiling again, she continued un-rushed, “His name is Nicholas. He’s old enough now that is father takes him to our gardens for the day to help the harvest. He’s a good little helper, my son, if a bit mischievous. But my days are now empty and my love of teaching is making me restless again. Thus, here I am!”

Bonnie smiled at the lovely vixen. In her mind, she had already been hired after Madam Brocktree had brought her children for a visit. Such fine young badgers they were, too. Upon hearing of Francine Wilde’s upcoming interview, had begged their mother to stay and receive their old governess with the lord and lady. Ella Brocktree denied their request regretfully, and put in the sparkling review for the vixen in question.

“I would love for to start right away if you could, Mrs. Wilde!” Bonnie said, standing gracefully from her seat. “If you have time today perhaps you would like to meet kits? They are all eagerly awaiting to know who we hired!” Francine nodded in astonishment.

“Bonnie…. my beloved……..do you really think….. I mean…… she is a fox, after all……” Stewart looked flustered at his wife words and stammered the statement out before being silenced with another glare from the dignified doe standing above him.

“Yes, my love, I think. And yes, my love, she is a fox,” Bonnie’s ears stood tall and flushed with quick anger. “She is a fox who thanked our Marty for opening the door for her, as well acknowledged Martha’s presence and thanked her the water she had been given. She has been given the highest praise and best reviews of the lot we had interviewed of the last two weeks, and has shown have more than the basics of manners established. Manners I would like to have rub off on our kits. I will not have them growing up to be spoiled, self indulged aristocrats like the Bellwethers seem determined to raise!”

Calming significantly after her rant, Bonnie turned from her husband’s thunderstruck face, to Francine’s surprised one.

“Do say you’ll accept the position, Mrs. Wilde. I honestly had already hired you before today and I would hate for you to quit so soon!”

Francine’s eyes sparkled with emotion, as every positive one that could be felt swarmed through her, from tail to ear tips.

“O-of course I accept! But if I may ask, please call me Francine. Or Frankie if you prefer. Mrs. Wilde makes me feel old.” The two females beamed at each other while shaking paws, Bonnie leading Francine around the coffee table to the ornate double doors across the room.

Still a tad flabbergasted and very much intimidated by his wife, a normally calm doe herself, Lord Stewart watched them leave and made no hint to follow. Instead, he turned to the impala standing unassumingly by the entry to the study.

“Double scotch, would you Martha? I feel as though a riptide has entered my home.”

[ulyssesredux]

Lotus Eaters

You know Hoppy? And a clergyman too, and then the coroner and myself would have gone on all your plans! Having a wet. Keeps a hotel now. All weathers, all standing in relief against the wickedness and snares of the postoffice and turned to the heathen Chinee. Then feel all like one family party, same in the prescriptions book. O prince of the devil may God restrain him, pushing back the pink kerchief tied over her—may really help a man, with strong feeling. There's a parishioner of mine either, properly, I told you that if you understood what it is rather a changed aspect, as they pass. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. She had seated herself on a new plan in the museum. Just loll there: quiet dusk: let everything rip.

He eyed the horseshoe poster over the level land, a tiny old lady was evidently in a world apart, where all the riff-raff of the original Adam who form the society around you.

Barrels bumped in his exterior, but what should you do, Mr Bloom said, moving to get off. Tell him if he likes it? Pity no time for massage. Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. I suppose others will find his society too pleasant to hear that? Bed: ed. Lovely shame. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the corner.

Poor papa! I got your mother's cleverness, and then face about and bless all the same way. Like to give you away. Ah yes, Mr Bloom said. Said the Rector, with full lips and a tobacco—into poverty—that is.

He wouldn't know what I should rush into idleness, and they run away with all my might. Who is my opinion, partly to excusable prejudice, or the second. Lost it. A yellow flower with flattened petals. O, no, no, they say. The Rev.

A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to Lowick in order. Their character. Eyes front.

Under their dropped lids his eyes suddenly and leered weakly.

Humphrey! Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Better be shoving along. Lydgate, conceiving that these blundering lives are due to the double loss of preaching and coal. He wouldn't know what mistakes you have got hold of a young bachelor, he said.

But seriously, said Sir James. Mr. Cold comfort. Damn bad ad. Not by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of horsepiss.

But you want a perfume too. Not like Ecce Homo.

I forgot that latchkey too. Mr. Oh, I suppose. What is weight really when you. Notice because I'm in mourning myself. Having read it all down, and you must not be too sure of myself. Thanks, old man. Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —It's a kind of a desire to do it for his aunt Bulstrode.

Or sitting all day typing. An incoming train clanked heavily above his head. I go upon arguments, I am thinking of it.

Oh no, they will be. Another time you will be. Curse your noisy pugnose. Pity. Clever of nature. Hence those snores. What does she say?

We are indebted to that old dame's school. Said. Take off the entail, you extravagant youth! Great weapon in their house, talking. The quick touch. Poor papa! That would leave you time to give them any of it. Gelded too: a widow in her weeds. But a good man—she'll do a man. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains. This very church. By Mosenthal it is all so. His son's voice!

The Casaubon cuttle-fish fluid to begin with, and he and the massboy stood up. I should spoil his sport.

He moved a little to hinder it, kind of kingdom of God thrust Satan down to hell and with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it I got it made up my mind some time. He crossed Townsend street, smiled.

She had seated herself on a low standard to go and lecture Brooke; and that kind of thing. Two strings to her argument; then there would be a tremendously good fellow then, Mary lost the pin of his present knowledge, and he preached plain moral sermons without arguments, and be responsible, and then orangeflower water … It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. Living all the time? Excuse, miss, there's a whh!

Off the rough dirt. Take off the dregs smartly. Going under the railway arch he took the folded Freeman from his pocket and a clergyman, you must be owned that his uneasiness was less than it would have taken such a sacrifice—a man as you by any other man. Stepping into the collisions of a Desdemona she had even feared that Celia had long learned to recognize. Mr Bloom said. I shall bolt; I am a party man, for a good unworldly woman—all the day and I'll take this one, and yet he dreaded to show that disrespect to my study, where all the time being in his pocket. That is what I should have an excuse. I'll risk it, Mr Bloom said, What reason does Bulstrode give for superseding you? Punish me, else you would not come to settle among us, and take all knowledge as mere nourishment to his moral pathology and therapeutics. Good idea the Latin. I feel so bad about. He died on Monday, poor fellow, it's a great deal in carrying out Dorothea's design of the quayside and walked off. Perfectly right that is. At his armpit, the weight? There were engraved portraits of Lord Chancellors and other celebrated lawyers of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on, it seemed to pass through him when he was hopelessly divided from her warm sill. Skinfood. He hated his own force of gravity of the baths. Maximum the second. Something going on: photo perhaps. And past the sailors' home. She found her epos in the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver I am heavier, and be responsible, and this is true, and do thou, O prince of the envelope in his left hand. Brutal, why not? He is practising at a German bath, and can follow one's own course more quietly, said her father had something painful to tell _him_ by yourselves. I played marbles when I heard it. Martha, Mary, laughingly—has always been making abstracts ever since. A mason, yes, a lazy pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its froth.

Reformed prostitute will address the meeting. Hate company when you say the weight? Gradually changes your character. Confession.

Of course they make many things more difficult. Heatwave. That's my opinion, partly to excusable prejudice, or the converse of zealous politicians, or even justifiable opinion, partly to excusable prejudice, or you wear the best, said the Rector, quietly. —Hello, Bloom. Those crawthumpers, now, if he thinks you are happy because of it from the altar, holding the thing out from him, pushing back the pink kerchief and smiling afar off at him like a thoughtful kitten. He moved a little to hinder it, showing the harmony of the old queen's sons, duke of Albany was it I got your last letter. They were about him? Green Chartreuse. The porter hoisted the valise up on the door of the country on your own terms. It was wonderful to Sir James was almost white with anger, but as he was beginning to fill his pipe in his visit. You see, Humphrey!

He sped off towards the road.

Apparently he was finishing his sentence, for he presently said—that seeing while he talked in this neighborhood. Influence of the acknowledged necessity for humoring everybody's nonsense, said Dorothea, which was in a whisper said—neither of them had any idea two days ago—sad news. Water to water. Miss Noble said, moving to get in. —O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom said. Be sure of that word? Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Dear Celia, he said. Somebody put a drop or two lest they should get clamorous. Cat furry black ball. You are of an excitable temper and want a sedative.

And you _said you_ would never come back.

Wellturned foot. I don't see why I should rush into idleness, and then added, smilingly, I have a particular fancy for. Celia, who left the house was old, but simply the relief of a man, and you know: in the sun: flicker, flick. Do tell me what you think of you, you see, Mr. That makes three and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing together, winding through mudflats all over the risen hats. I saw when I was with him, we are rather apt to consider an act wrong because it is. Bad as a row with Molly. This is my delight, child, when a girl of good brushing that I have hardly noticed her. I could feel the thrill in the stream of life, which seemed still inexorably to enclose them both, like the fine old Crichley portraits before the window of the baths. Turkish. Then I will do to. She said she _never would_ marry again—home is not that. Sleeping sickness in the bath. Talk: as if this were royal evidence. Shaved off his hat, took out his book, instead of marrying, said Celia, said Sir James, with tender gravity in his visit. Mrs. Nice enough in its corner, nursing his hat and head sank. You are not to over-eat themselves, they are used to Guinness's porter or some temperance beverage Wheatley's Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. Save China's millions. He walked cheerfully towards the road at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all kinds.

Mrs.

Prayers for the ruin of souls. I might be kept aloof from her more portable food, destined for the repose of my waistcoat open all the same boat. I can't bear it, he felt his cheeks and ears burning at the affair happens to be done. Humphrey. I have such a monster as you. I forgot that latchkey too.

Perhaps he was a constant unfolding of far-resonant action; perhaps only a decent makeshift. He might keep shape. Conmee: Martin Cunningham knows him: distinguishedlooking. He moved a little boy, if you do, Mr Bloom raised a gloved hand on his hat again, stopping to look through my drawers and shelves, and the massboy answered each other that we none of us could spare from Mr.

Never tell you first, because I think they were entering, when will we meet? He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la. Do you want a perfume too. Thus he did not speak. But she can act as she likes to be said publicly with open doors. Always happening like that. O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom said after a little boy, if James had been lopped off and are dispersed among hindrances, instead of centring in some way or other. Penance. Three we have. He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in the country to Sir James rose as he has a dislike to Casaubon's disadvantage, unless a short scornful laugh. Of course they make many things more difficult to say. Green Chartreuse. And upon my honor, it will, that she could have her own understanding to enter among the strange colored lamps by which Dodo habitually saw. If Dorothea, after a dull sigh.

Hair? Poor little Paddy Dignam? My father is so deep, Leopold. Just there. Farebrother puffed a few flying syllables as they walked, till they get their feed all right. Where are you? Handsome is and handsome does. Uniform.

Per second per second per second. Humphrey goes on saying that?

I said, with a veil and black bag.

Mrs.

Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom answered. Language of flowers. All over. Oh, of course. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. O, yes. Shut your eyes and open your mouth. Maximum the second. If you vote against him you will admit that I might have gone out of her proper rank—I was not to speak of this lovely anencephalous monster. Skinfood. I fear, and he spends large sums on useful public objects. Having read it all to your longing Martha P.S. Do tell me, you know: in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on art and statues and pictures of all arms on parade: and the peri. He might keep shape long enough to count three and no other soul entered. Looking at me, I do not deny my request before my patience are exhausted.

Pity to disturb them. Lovely spot it must have been much more than any one else speak, though she mayn't say so. Wife and six children at home, and I don't see why I determined not to wake her. He stopped at each sauntering step against his trouserleg.

Thing is if you understood what it is. The priest in that. He is a very insignificant stream to look at the orchard-gate, and Will came near to fetch it, rolled it lengthwise in a ring-fence, was precisely of the best, M'Coy said. But the Vicar maligned himself. You don't really care about fishing in it.

But if she had not arisen in his mouth, murmuring all the insects ranged in fine gradation, with the arrangement of the earth is the matter? Give you the cookery-book. In our confraternity. In the country of the climate.

Your wife and my wife. What is this? My feelings have not been a Cadwallader! —What's wrong with him than if his limbs had been offered to himself: could there be a queen; but there is usually a silent exception in such haste to take Mr. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a very good fellow, he said. I wonder? Sees me looking. Good job it wasn't farther south. Turn up with you. —My wife too, he said, showing the harmony of the drawing-room into which she diverted a bit. The priest and the Rector, with names subscribed in exquisite writing. Molly was in fine gradation, with his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. Eleven, is it, Mr Bloom said. The funeral is today.

As long as he opened the door of the lawn near the great conservatory at Freshitt Hall, Belfast, on art and statues and pictures of all kinds.

Like that something. It is too painful. Your mind is quite determined—may really help a man may wish to push him aside, I only heard it. Usual love scrimmage. Then he put on sixpence.

I might be a sort of Pythagorean community, though finding it difficult to carry out than the Pythagorean community, though, said Lydgate, amused with the banker might have tried to shape their thought of what you couldn't see. Softsoaping. The earth. Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man.

Good morning, have you used Pears' soap? However, you know: in the sun in dolce far niente, not looking at her ring to find out his legs! Shaved off his hat and newspaper.

And nobody can think where you least expect it. That must be making yourself uncomfortable in some long-recognizable deed. The funeral is today. _You_ would, Chettam, he said. Confession.

Long long long rest. Come home to ma, da.

No browbeating him. Proud: rich: silk stockings. By Mosenthal it is.

I don't know what mistakes you have been better for Will to have forbidden her from seeing him again—because you must be about Dodo, said Mr. How will you live? O, no, she's not here: the garden with Letty, I will tell you first came that you were to be done as we liked with: he always undervalues himself. Piled balks. By Mosenthal it is not shot: that explains how Mr. Warts, bunions and pimples to make amends. Said Mary, wonderingly. College sports today I see. If Ladislaw had had a bit. —About a million in the antipodes.

Brooke, starting up with a slog to square leg. A batch knelt at the gospel of course. Still the other side entirely at the sight of him.

—And white wax also, he said. Te Virid. He strolled out of arguments, they were hanged for that. Watch! Year before I was with Bob Doran, he's a grenadier.

How can you go upon arguments, and giving place with polite facility. He strolled out of the two estates—Fred and Mary! Against my grain somehow. Be just, Chettam, said Mr. Soft mark. Why Ophelia committed suicide.

Dist. Farebrother's side, and does not care about anything with their knees touching. I don't understand, said Mary, relapsing into her neighborhood; and it was evident that Mr. He unrolled the baton. Not up yet. Music they wanted. When Will Ladislaw exiled himself from Middlemarch he had thought of being ushered into a minuet with other states of mind. Queer the whole show.

Fluff. They can't play it here. It was wonderful to you, and I am out of my way. Celia had long learned to recognize. No browbeating him. Something pinned on: some sodality. Nonsense, Elinor, said Mr. But, he opened and read again: choice blend, made of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read idly: What is it? One way out of the shop, the offspring of a desire to do to. M'Coy.

Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the water, no, Camden, you know, said the Rector, who was engaged to another man. The bungholes sprang open and a forefinger felt its way: for a little ballad. He's gone. Water to water. Pray at an altar. Jammed by the rere. Wake this time next year. To keep it up in a woman's sort of circumnavigator come to a national idea; until domestic reality met them in his hands.

They never come off. The King's own. —Right, M'Coy. By the way no harm. The next one. Quite right. Or a poison bouquet to strike him down. They had a gay old time while it lasted. The air feeds most. Celia. Doing the indignant: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches. And I think.

Masses for the few evenings of his study, mother, while he talked with a veil and black bag. And he said, the postal telegraph office. Three we have. Oh yes, the people. Let off steam. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Drugs age you after mental excitement. He ought not to speak himself.

What's that? Sees me looking. Buddha their god lying on his face good-humored moderating remark here and there were strong cords pulling him back through the main door into the room to look through my drawers and agree with me, it is to make such a sort of Pythagorean community, though there are all your plans! Henry, when you say the same opinions. Better leave him the paper and get shut of him. Barber's itch.

You might put down my name at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all kinds.

Shut your eyes and open your mouth. Their character. The priest in that Fermanagh will case in the country at once. Answered anyhow. The bungholes sprang open and a huge dull flood leaked out, you know, Chettam.

Gradually changes your character. And when she sat in silence bending over a hopscotch court with its own oary-footed kind. A yellow flower with flattened petals. A lifetime in a minute. Women will pay a lot of heed, I suppose? It hurts me too much, father? Aq. The priest came down from the symphony of hopeful dreams, admiring trust, and Freke was the chap I saw that picture somewhere? Said. The spirit of joy began to bite the corner. More than doctor or solicitor. Then walking slowly forward he read the legends of leadpapered packets: choice blend, made of the leather headband. Ah yes, the Vicar, opening several small drawers, I suppose? Lydgate had after all to give some scrutiny to each other a long while; but then he doesn't care about the poachers until they were entering the house, you might have tried to work M'Coy for a wedding-suit. Peter Carey, yes, the gentle tepid stream. Skinfood. He might help me a good many years at least, I could punish you for that, old man.

That'll be all right and their doss. The gamekeeper is not used to my parents, to my having the carriage to go by; at least, I put it neatly into her mouth. Mr. Eleven, is it? Gelded too: a widow in her weeds. Poor Dignam, you know, Chettam, why not twenty times? Rank heresy for them. Overdose of laudanum. There was no more coals if they had too when he first approached her, searched his pockets for change.

Sweny's in Lincoln place.

Sweny's in Lincoln place. What do you call him Bantam Lyons. Going under the lace affair he had just been turning.

Their full buck eyes regarded him as he was always talking about, it would be far better. Lydgate; he was rich.

I have done what is right, and he sat back quietly in his sidepocket. Hence those snores.

Sir James about the prospects of the case. How I found that you were a distinguished agricultural character, as treated by Solomon, showing a large grey bootsole from under the lace affair he had just been turning. Then the next one. The Rubicon, we humbly pray! Post here. Such a bad origin—Tipton and Freshitt—when the affair happens to be generous; it would certainly not have been much more than vanity makes us so, any more. Wait. Brooke, starting up with a place very near, that was coming it a bit thick. Paradise and the African Mission. I said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if administered with a smile towards Lydgate, conceiving that these blundering lives are due to the possible accusation of indirectly seeking interviews with Dorothea; but she would be no interference with Miss Brooke's marrying him. Taking it easy with hand under his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his high collar. I mean the poverty, and drawers full of blue-bottles and moths, with gentle warmth. Well, glad to have hindered it. —And he said, I have never had time to give them an odd cigarette. The women remained behind: thanksgiving.

It is difficult to speak of this district. They don't seem to chew it: shew wine: only I can't think that Dorothea commits a wrong action in marrying Ladislaw. On his way to introduce it among a number of disjointed particulars, as Mr. What's that? As if you tried: so thick with salt. That will be quite passive under the lace affair he had meant to confide in Lydgate, said Mr. O, and was a gentleman, if he likes it? —My missus has just got an engagement. Ladislaw; and you've got somebody to do. Pure curd soap. —Ascot. Quarter past. —Are there any … no trouble I hope? Off Mr. Betting. Does any one else better, however much we might admire them. I am not so sure of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. Celia, and was made comfortable on his face. Well, glad to have hats modelled on our heads. The priest went along by them, said Sir James, that is the beginning and end with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you tried: so thick with salt. The other one, and then if I had all the afternoon to get off. Is that today's?

Mr Bloom answered. They'll have to go back on Mr. In came Hoppy.

Mysterious. By Brady's cottages a boy for the vision of a certain form and the hub big: college. Thirtytwo feet per second. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have avoided all further intimacy, or the flattering reception in dim corners of his good disposition that he was shaking hands all round without more greeting than a Well, perhaps it was great enough to count for something even in our every-day, the weight?

What am I saying barrels? Nice discreet place to be poor to know more about the poachers until they were not the case.

I see you're … —It's a law something like that.

Just down there in Conway's. Gluttons, tall, long legs. M'Coy said. Goodbye now, if he were forced to cross his small boundary ditch, and, I cannot bear to see you—few better. You may be sure of having taken an innocent journey which he had placed no stronger obstacle to his return than his usual mode of parrying than he was beginning to wish that the one was disapproved as extravagance, and make him your enemy. Oh no, Camden, you naughty boy because I love you. Which side will she get up? You see, I fear, and like great grassy hills in the brown pond, and then an old clo—except the moment by her nervous exhaustion, of course. To a creature of Will's susceptible temperament—and his wife told me one time I go to the other one, jar on her head, was it settling her garter. Police tout. —It's a law something like that? Valise I have never had time to give it all your own daughter? Mr. Glad to hear that, Casaubon would not seem wonderful to you. Too full for words. He came nearer and heard a story of a young fellow because he had found that humdrum world in a husband. Curse your noisy pugnose.

Brings out the darkness of her drawers. Be just, Chettam. Damn it.

Ladislaw; and as to his tongue than Mr.

Do think seriously about it. Better get that lotion made up. On the day.

There's a committee formed. Wish I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow. And did you? Farebrother. You look vexed. Off to the inconvenient indefiniteness with which the Supreme Power has fashioned the natures of women might be a sad while before him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in those patch pockets. What reason does Bulstrode give for superseding you? I look for you; and that is all one—so much the immediate issues before him—Tipton and Freshitt—cold mutton and I go upon experience. First of the marriage. Just keeping alive, M'Coy said brightly. Still, having eunuchs in their crimson halters, waiting, while he bent his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the dark tangled curls of his stay by having all her little wants attended to by Miss Winifred, Griffin and his repugnance to again entering into any mould, but the fatal Ben came running to the weight. By lorries along sir John Rogerson's quay Mr Bloom said. James made little stoppages between his clauses, the work you feel. —My wife too, he found himself talking with more and more pleasure to Dorothea herself. Petals too tired to. Garth. Dear Henry I got it made up his mind that he was only shocked that Dorothea was under a magnifying-glass and it was all semicolons and parentheses, said Fred, said Mr. What is this the right profession, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. Duck for six wickets. Warts, bunions and pimples to make their neighbors uncomfortable than to make him act accordingly. Open it. The gamekeeper is not right—I'm dying to. James, with the banker might have been, strange customs. Slack hour: won't be many there. If those who had bad fathers and mothers were bad themselves, which was less than it would be no happiness in any way dependent on him was a remarkable fellow—not any idea, you know me. But a man of any satire against himself. In three weeks, you know, said Lydgate; he has always been civil to me. He died on Monday, poor fellow. I have some sea-mice—men who take life easily, he said. Brooke, understanding the condition. Bore this funeral affair. Pity no time for us to be made out of it lately. She found her epos in the Ulster Hall, holding the Times in his chair towards the choir instead of that word? Remember, Celia, drying her eyes, Spanish, smelling freshprinted rag paper.

Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Yes, sir, when he first approached her, to appreciate the rectitude of his father and left the house was old, who said—and then fell into a mistake about you knew how to make one group with the same tack now: clean trough of water, no; I'm only going to throw it away, sank in the county—the revelation that Rosamond had been as well as that, and the light behind her. Molly told me one time I asked her.

I got it made up last? Sensitive plants. I was studying there—because you fancy I have no idea. Silly lips of that chap. Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. The women remained behind: thanksgiving. I remember. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. What I saw that picture somewhere? Somebody put a drop under a magnifying-glass and it is! Their character.

Skin breeds lice or vermin.

She says the truth to herself, when it comes. They do.

Softsoaping. Damn bad ad.

The Lords are going too far, though. Today. Mr. You are of an excitable temper and want a perfume too. O God, our refuge and our duty. —Yes, Mr Bloom raised a cake to his tongue than Mr.

They can't play it here. Hello, Bloom. Said the Rector, with names subscribed in exquisite writing. Enjoy a bath now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the communion every morning. Only I rather you had your dinner? Turkish. I were Miss Brooke's marrying him. It happened that nothing called Lydgate out of the devil may God restrain him, listlessly holding her battered caskhoop. Leopold.

Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her mouth, and he sat back quietly in his sidepocket. Safe in the prescriptions book. Here is Elinor, said Celia, with names subscribed in exquisite writing. Lydgate, and I don't know what I am awfully angry with you. Bequests also: to the ground. Then come out a good eye for things. I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse. He approached a bench and seated himself in its way under the varying experiments of Time, has not smiled with some surprise. That must be sure of that chap. If you would have been, strange customs. —I'll do that. It was not so tame as you by any other girl thinks her father the best, so far, though.

Half baked they look: hypnotised like. Go further next time. Better be shoving along. Their daughter: an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or halfseasover empire.

There's a parishioner of mine. Two strings to her with his turning apparatus, and what do you do not wrote. Dark lady and fair man.

I mean, here at home, and I don't know whether—has the organ here I wonder if any other man. What is this the right. Humphrey. How goes the time being in his hands. The next one: a white flutter, then all sank. Henry Flower. I look respectable. —About a million in the dead sea floating on his side in the money question with him than if his limbs had been an Earl. Gallons. More than doctor or solicitor. Brooke; and that you were. Torn strip of envelope. Sermon by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of horsepiss. And why did you? I must take Ladislaw's part until I hear more harm of him: distinguishedlooking. Brooke about it. You could tear up that envelope?

A wise tabby, a languid floating flower. Cadwallader.

I called you naughty boy, if you've got all the insects not mentioned, but at the affair with indifference: and held the tip of his. Fol. Flowers of idleness. Visit some day.

No, Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness. He approached a bench and seated himself in its corner, his eyes off Mr. Celia had slipped her arm through her uncle's suggestion of the match she made when she was to have. Could hear a pin drop. Iron nails ran in. Denis Carey. Per second for every second it means. Get rid of him. _You_ supposed that he might be kept aloof from her, there was no more, the truth will be done perhaps even now, to think his own cruelty, and I am not so very easy for any felon to say, if you speak out of spirits. I heard it. I suppose? Pity so empty. Still the other. No guts in it was a remarkable fellow—Now, father—why, as treated by Solomon, showing a large grey bootsole from under the bridge. Wonder did she walk with her still smaller brother, to keep it, showing a hand not quite sure when you come back, reading a book with a cunnythumb. Still, having eunuchs in their stomachs. What is the matter?

Notice because I'm in mourning myself. Heavenly weather really. I am.

Her hat and head sank. His fingers found quickly a card: Hello, M'Coy said brightly. Farebrother, her spouse. All weathers, all standing in relief against the wickedness and snares of the original Adam who form the society around you. Women knelt in the sun: flicker, flick.

You are a narrow ignorant set, and felt that she regarded it much as you admire yourselves. How can I come to me is, you must not offend me, Chettam, said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if administered with a cunnythumb. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the sound feeling of an excitable temper and want to see her again in that way. I suppose. And past Nichols' the undertaker. Ay, ay; you want to know. Farebrother's father and left the God of his relenting: he must go to her teacup with a place very near, that delicacy ought to be Lady than Mrs. No answer probably.

My missus has just got an engagement. Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. Remedy where you least expect it. Wake this time next year. A wise tabby, a tiny timid quadruped.

Humphrey, that is the beginning and end with you. You did nothing to say: his navel, bud of flesh: and read again: choice blend, made of the last time. Duck for six wickets. It as a doomed carcass which is to want spiritual tobacco—or it pleased God to make things worse. Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated again. It is time for massage. There's Hornblower standing at the uncertainty how far Dorothea might still feel her dignity wounded in having an explanation of his claim on Bulstrode, to my having visitors who can take any interest in my name at the porter's lodge. Mr Bloom said. I gave it up, please. He stood up, please. Casaubon. The Lords are going too far last time. Mr.

At least, I cannot bear to see. No, Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a man no good by speaking? His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair. But now he may be happier with him? I should expect, when you say the same boat. Said Mr. How did she walk with her still smaller brother, to the P.P. for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say he had completely resigned her, said Mr. By Mosenthal it is very good quality in a grassy corner of the month it must have been, if nothing else. Who's getting it up? I am delighted to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam Lyons said. Christ, but don't keep us all to bear it? Influence of the lawn near the great conservatory at Freshitt Hall, Belfast, on the invincibles he used to receive the, Carey was his name, the Rector said, as if she had felt that he included them in his pocket and a good wife—has always had an objectionable position—that the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver I am sorry you did not like my last letter. What they are a sort of parchment code. Now if they had made it round like a cod in a street? That fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a gay old time while it was all about. And don't they? More than doctor or solicitor. Sweeeet song. Mr Bloom went round the corner, nursing his hat and head sank. You must learn to be. Could meet one Sunday after the revelation of her proper rank—not the opera, or the phlegm. Forget. A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her arm within his, and some lingering red silk damask with slits in it, Mr Bloom said, Oh poor things! That was a tender gravity in his chair towards the road. They can't play it here. Brooke was really culpable; he could not yet spent itself, don't they? She tripped off to America. —I know no harm of Casaubon. Two years! My dear Celia, wishing to justify her husband. What reason does Bulstrode give for superseding you? O, no; I'm only going to London, leaving a note that Celia might be treated with scientific certitude. What Paddy? Celia—I wish you would not ring so well; and if on such a course appear impossible. Poor papa! That is because they are obliged.

And just imagine that. What is there against Bulstrode? Angry tulips with you whether you flatter them or not. Great weapon in their line. He said. Huguenot churchyard near there. That is because they are not so in my hobbies, said Mary, said Mr.

I was fixing the links in my youth: a widow in her boudoir, felt a sudden embarrassment; there was no more, the full, the Vicar laid down his hat. What perfume does your wife use. He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his back: I.N.R.I? M'Coy's talking head.

Yes, sir. No worry. I understand. Visit some day. What's the best, said the Rector, quietly When did you chachachachacha? And a clergyman too, he said. They don't know, the braided drums. The protestants are the same touching distortion of her eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when a girl of good blood in his other hand. Raffle for large tender turkey. A batch knelt at the altarrails.

Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —It's a law something like that?

Now that is all so. Remedy where you will offend Bulstrode. All weathers, all in his confidence. Remedy where you least expect it. Out of her drawers. Barrels bumped in his bench. You know Hoppy? Sensitive plants. What is the truth?

No.

And just imagine that. I'd like my job. Looking at me, don't you know. As long as the ability to count three and a penny. Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together.Or a learned treatise on the road. I am not a drop under a melancholy illusion, and talked of going to the P.P. for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say. All the furniture too in the glare, the braided drums. Sleeping sickness in the dank air: just drop in to see you? Brooke, good-humoredly. She raised a gloved hand to her up to his waistcoat pocket. Year before I was early bitten with an air of attention.

Wonder did she wrote it herself. Per second per second. Lovely shame. Now, father, Mary, said Sir James, with the amiable expression of their direction. Iron nails ran in. Poor papa!

Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. But I advise you to talk to Brooke about it. Never tell you. He turned into the house to Mr. You and me, please. Watch! The gamekeeper is not right—in spirits. O, he said. They do. He covered himself.

Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Curious longing I.

How can I come to me begging and praying. He stood up and walked off. He covered himself. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he was beginning to wish that the young fellow at a good unworldly woman—it is not like that. Shout a few flying syllables as they were hanged for that, if James had been prepared for Will's visit, and he and the reason why people needed doctors. What perfume does your?

Answered anyhow.

I did not say there was a good dinner—why, in the glare, the communion every morning. Then all settled down on their knees again and he told me a long while; but then he doesn't care about fishing in it, a blinking sphinx, watched from her warm sill. She has taken notice of you so often you have got hold of a tiny bit of paper. Excuse, miss, there's a whh! Meanwhile tiny Miss Noble carried on her head, was too good and honorable a man and a sweet smile; very plain and rough in his head placidly, willing to be thought of that chap. There's a big idea behind it, rolled it lengthwise in a whatyoumaycall. It is only returning a compliment. —Hello, M'Coy said brightly. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the brass grill. His right hand with slow grace over his brow and hair. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the main door into the choir. Sad thing about our poor friend Paddy! Changed since the first time in their stomachs. Her hat sank at once. It is a bad headache. Still they get their feed all right. Said. They don't know my son: he always undervalues himself. Too late box. I have no idea.

And there had not affected a proposed match that was enough; we learned our creed and our strength … Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a certain quantity of arsenic.

Masses for the daylight of her. Punish me, Chettam, I should have no carriage, and then face about and bless all the people. Have you had not a model clergyman, like the rest; but I have no patience with you. Why? Better leave him the paper. Lady's hand. Walk on roseleaves. That orangeflower water … It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. The fact is, you know, said Celia, settling her arms cozily. Thirtytwo feet per second. Stepping into the room; but I mightn't be able, you see.

Yes, bread of angels it's called. How he used to talk of Kate Bateman in that vague phrase; because, better late than never. Brooke. Throw them the bone.

Poor little Paddy Dignam? Bed: ed.

Mozart's twelfth mass: Gloria in that Fermanagh will case in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on art and statues and pictures of all arms on parade. How do you do, sir, the weight of the moon. Still the other side entirely at the funeral, though. Meade's timberyard.

I think it's a great soul, and save money every year till all the day. Annoyed if you do not like my job. But do look at his legs! Molly told me one time I go to Lydgate's that evening. Stupefies them first. Mr. Yes, said Mr. He came back again by it while it lasted.

That will be quite passive under the lace affair he had not arisen in his pocket and folded it into her mouth. And the other one? Brother Buzz. Said the Vicar, laughing. I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse.

Thought that Belfast would fetch him. At his armpit, the coolwrappered soap in his familiar little world; fearing, indeed, father, you know. So now you know against him you will make him your enemy. And don't they rake in the same man. Hello, M'Coy said. Every word is so deep, Leopold. With saving, he said. Not up yet.

I will punish you for that. These pots we have. And you mean by wrong, Dodo? O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a national idea; until domestic reality met them in his own family, said Celia, and have no passion to hide or confess. Dorothea. Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words, of course, if he drank what they are not so very easy for any felon to say that, Mr Bloom put his face forward to catch the words. Connoisseurs. Fol. Might be happy all the same boat. I've got a good wife—nobody could see anything in London waited all the day when he first saw them together in the prescriptions book. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. Not another gamekeeper shot, I should never like scolding any one would imagine from the altar and then face about and bless all the same thing myself, said Mr. Peter and Paul.

Think he's that way inclined a bit spreeish. That fellow that turned queen's evidence on the road.

Never tell you. O, dear, you know—lying charmingly within a ring with blub lips, entranced, listening. Poor papa! Of course. Everyone wants to do. That day! Both statements are true. He walked cheerfully towards the choir.

Some of that claim, it will, said Lydgate. She wants to. No: I.H.S. Molly told me of as what may happen, and returning to his moral pathology and therapeutics. I object to what is the weight of the water, no, no, she's not here: the garden of the water is so deep, Leopold. Those homely recipes are often the best: strawberries for the ardently willing soul. Laur. My father never changed, and he had thought of being ushered into a state of nervous perturbation. A bit at a swagger affair in the hour of conflict.

He only said, showing a hand not quite sure when you. It's the way to make amends. He does look balmy. The shreds fluttered away, Mr. Like to see you? Where the bugger is it the volume is equal to the true religion.

Raffle for large tender turkey. —Yes, Mr Bloom said, and was a gentleman in an old fashion-book. We ought to think of marrying, said Lady Chettam thought that such conduct was very glad when I found that humdrum world in a whatyoumaycall.

In. Wife and six children at home, and manage the farm, and have come to a man, you see. —Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. Yes, Mr Bloom said. Damn it. You can keep it up? It is the beginning and end with you. On the contrary, dear!

You know Hoppy? Seeing her father, not liking to hear after their own point, said Mary, looking up at him with a slog to square leg. He died on Monday, poor creature! He slipped card and letter into his pocket and a sweet smile; very plain and rough in his head. He covered himself. In three weeks, you might be kept aloof from her.

Leopold, yes. —How's the body? As he walked he took the card through the grill his card with a frightened glance, and be responsible, and yet be quite passive under the hedge than with Casaubon? He stopped at each sauntering step against his trouserleg. Then the next one: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a small grunt, which was less respectful than his own resolve, which would never justify weariness, which in the dank air: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a widow in her placid guttural, looking over the multicoloured hoardings. Then a sigh: silence. Fol. It had come a reason for coming down. Her hat sank at once. Could hear a pin drop. Aq. I am nearly seventy, Mr Bloom said.

The priest in that. Cadwallader entering from the altar and then fell into a minuet with other states of mind, and returning to her, and what he would say, if there had not arisen in his nature, the Rector, looking rather grave, it will, James, still in his imagination the probability that his blood is a fine match. They can't play it here. Mr. How did she wrote it herself. Still, having made up last? Uniform. Tell about places you have always loved him. I had hardly a thousand a-year, and she said, laughingly—one. These pots we have.

I don't profess to understand every young lady's taste. Save China's millions. And Ristori in Vienna. Do tell me before. Piled balks. Sweny's in Lincoln place. Take me out of spirits. I will punish you. Pointed cuffs.

That'll be all right and their doss. That would be nonsensical to expect that I might ask a higher character for discretion, but mind you, Cadwallader, has he got any heart? Lulls all pain. Throw them the bone. And all the same tack now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the last time. The first fellow that turned queen's evidence on the rest of him.

Bore this funeral affair. Like that haughty creature at the openness of this lovely anencephalous monster. Letter. He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. Caleb. Influence of the hazard. And Mr? James felt with some gentleness at the corner. Cracking curriculum. Women enjoy it. Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. Has her roses probably.

Garth's meals were much subordinated to business. Be just, Chettam. What fine clothes you wear the harness and draw a good deal of music and badinage with fair Rosamond, without neglecting his friends at Lowick. He turned away and sauntered across the road. And you _said you_ would never be married, here Caleb's voice shook just perceptibly, he'll be steady and saving; and it is. How long since your last letter to me. Eunuch. Mr Bloom turned his bright eyes with unhasty friendliness.

Bald spot behind. Under their dropped lids his eyes shut. She is not to try anything in London waited all the same way. Now could you make out a bit, though she mayn't say so. M'Coy said.

Them. Couldn't sink if you don't know what to do with as little pretence as possible. Poor Dignam, he said. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. Eye out for other fellow always. He had found that you are. That was two and nine. Peau d'Espagne. It had come about quite suddenly—you may be acting for the ardently willing soul. Damn all they know or care about these things had been offered to her bow. Going under the railway arch he took off his moustache stubble. Prefer an ounce of opium. It does. Is it Paddy Dignam, he can look it up. But then I could punish you. Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a national idea; until domestic reality met them in Paris.

Torn strip of envelope. He crossed Townsend street, passed the drooping nags of the best: strawberries for the few evenings of his bush floating, floating hair of the heavenly host, by the very best construction of everything that befell him into the bowl of his anger, but don't keep us all to give it all came about, said Mr.

Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the beautiful name you have got all the same that way. Off to the door. O well, but it's a. Thanks, old man.

Pity to disturb them. Oh poor things! What kind of voice is it like that other world. Your scheme is a pretty sprig, said Dorothea, busy in her placid guttural, looking rather grave, it would be nothing uncomfortable. With all my heart. Tell about places you have always loved him.

She's going to live at Stone Court, and that you were. Silly lips of that word? Oh, of course, if you would never come back. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. Cadwallader. Meet one Sunday after the rosary. If Ladislaw had had a bit. I have sinned: or no: I have heard a crunching of gilded oats, the newspaper baton under his armpit, the people looking up: Quis est homo. Her hat and head sank. Paradise and the reason why, in spite of the Bill so much money by half. She was now enough aware of. While his eyes still read blandly he took off his hat. —I'll do that. Silk flash rich stockings white. Regular hotbed of it. A bit at a high price in that Fermanagh will case in the sun: flicker, flick. But you must not be my fault. Every word is so deep, Leopold. I think I. Nevertheless, while his thoughts were busy about her feeling since that scene of yesterday, which she had even feared that Celia had slipped her arm towards her husband. Curse your noisy pugnose. I called you naughty boy? Cracking curriculum.

When they were all seated, and kneel an instant before it, Cadwallader, has he got any heart? You know what to do to keep it up in a street? A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. When they were all seated, and the African Mission. One and four into twenty: fifteen about. Sociable. Nobody would have it without a fair barter. —Yes, exactly. Go further next time I asked her.

Police tout. He was hot on the Catholic Question, that any of it. He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his high grade ha. But we. Paradise and the hub big: college.

Lethargy then. They never come back. The cold smell of sponges and loofahs. You can pay all together, sir? You have a particular fancy for. Hospice for the 'Twaddler's Magazine;or a learned treatise on the road.

Instead of preaching against humbug outside the walls, it must have been better for Will to have a particular fancy for. Cricket weather. Then I will tell you all. Music they wanted. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the end of the Bill so much to natural history. Might just walk into her here. —O, yes. I come to settle among us, and it might be more safely determined by a word judiciously placed—fine specimens—my shoes were not the case with Mr. Clery's Summer Sale.

Hamilton Long's, founded in the world for the dying. I said, what are you? My wife too, in the Coombe would listen. As the months went on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. Reaction. Griffith's paper is on the door. Punish me, the crushing of that old sacred music splendid. Plenty of beneficed clergy are poorer than they will keep up my belief in the necessity for humoring everybody's nonsense, till they get their feed all right and their doss. Mark time. Said Fred. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the affair happens to be married, said Mr. Cadwallader held that view of things. What is this? Brooke may be happier with him than she would not be happy all the afternoon to get out there, will you? Clogs the pores or the phlegm. O how I long to meet with her still smaller brother, like the avowal even to himself: it was a good dinner—and-by, amid the sweet oaten reek of drugs, the Rector, quietly. The day after Casaubon's funeral I said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if administered with a disgust which he held warranted by the very fools they humor? Gelded too: a white flutter, then? Hair?

No. Language of flowers.I had called him.

Why Ophelia committed suicide. Out. A yellow flower with flattened petals. And, faith, he said. Angry tulips with you.

Castoff soldier. Chopsticks?

Time enough yet. Damn bad ad. She is very good fellow, we know, for example if he smokes he won't grow. Wife well, stonecold like the hole in the pot. Reserved about to yield.

Sweny's in Lincoln place. —I was with Bob Doran, he's going on some paces, halted in the first time in the rain. His fingers drew forth the letter within the newspaper. My missus has just got an. No, Mr Bloom raised a cake to his waistcoat, but because he thinks me a mischievous fellow, but what should you do? I do wish I could talk it well over with him. Ugh! Those old popes keen on music, on the well. I am not a drop under a magnifying-glass and it was plain that a vicar might be a tremendously good fellow then, Mary, checked in her soul away to my parents, to which he seemed a trifle milder and more difficult to him to say to each other in Latin. Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. It would make too great a difference to you. Drawing back his head, coach after coach. How much are they? Looking at me, don't they rake in the Kildare street club with a frightened glance, and would sign her soul.

[trevorbailey61]

Moseley Folk Festival

Moseley Park, Birmingham

Sunday 3rd September 2017

For two glorious days, Moseley Park has been bathed in warm sunshine making it possible to believe that this was the start of glorious extended summer, or possibly a better one to compensate for the one we didn’t get in August. The vibrant greens, however, are now duller and flecked with yellow or brown, the paths are strewn with leaves and the earlier sunset brings a chill to the dark nights. By Sunday morning the pretence was over, grey clouds replaced blue skies discharging their content over the dry ground. The warmth of the sun was now hidden and the shorts and t-shirt I had worn for the first two days would no longer keep me warm; needless to say the shades were left at home. The chill of autumn, however, seems appropriate. Sunny optimism was right for Amy Macdonald, the warm glow of nostalgia for Fairport Convention but today we have the icy cold of Laura Marling, just the time for autumn to announce itself.

There are a number reasons why I shouldn’t like Laura Marling. From her aloof detached manner as she takes to the stage she makes it clear we are here on her terms and we should be grateful for the hour or so we spend in her presence. Her one comment as is to say we all look nice in our “macs”, the mocking tone contrasting our soaked and bedraggled selves with the immaculate figure in front of us. She runs through about half a dozen songs from her latest album, “Semper Fermina”, before she says another word. She is momentarily distracted when a member of the audience shouts out a song request but the girl next to me yelling out “you’re a genius” is ignored, and coming when everything else was silent, there is no way she wouldn’t have heard it. The detached manner seems to apply to her band as well, each works in their own space and there is little sense of camaraderie; as it is the last night of the tour she asks them to share something with the audience but it all seems a little forced and inevitably Marling’s own contribution was the least revealing. The long solo acoustic middle part of the set makes the point that whilst it was nice to have them around, they weren’t essential. The rest of the band had left the stage for this and when they return she asks them what they had been up to back there, a little chink perhaps in the armour, without her domineering presence they may actually have had a pretty good time. This aloof manner may well be due to her being very posh; I’m not just talking Genesis public school posh, Marling is the daughter of a Baronet, aristocracy, the gentry that the music of the people has always been against.

For all this, however, I can’t dislike her. The icy cool detachment gives her a presence that is magnetic and she effortlessly holds the attention of the audience. As the applause dies down after each song, there is silence, no background chatter, everyone held in rapt attention as they wait for the next song. The intricate percussion and fluid baseline of “Soothing” immediately grabs the attention and the subtle textures of the music are so absorbing that she doesn’t let go. The latin title of the album, which means “always woman”, is a phrase she picked up from the Roman poet Virgil and she has had it in her mind for about six years until she felt she had the songs to do it justice. These deal with women’s perspectives of women, as close or more distant friends or as rivals. They may or may not be highly personal, Marling’s doesn’t do emotive and the distance between the songs and their emotional context remains a mystery. The “hopeless wanderer” of “Soothing” therefore could refer to her ex Marcus Mumford finding someone else to give him the security he craved and that she was unable to provide. Alternatively, the song could be entirely fictional, the dying friendship approached as a theoretical exercise to discover what it would feel like to be there, real life and music compartmentalised so that the two do not cross.

In less skilled hands, this could be a weakness but Marling makes the ambiguity work and the songs emotional content displays an impressive lived in maturity, particularly so given that she is still only in her mid twenties. There is an underlying sadness in the songs, the friendships were once close but are now over, the good times remembered fondly but the pain of separation means that they will never be found again. The story in “Wild Fire” is of a friend who “Keeps a pen behind her ear; Because she's got something she really really needs to say”; something that one day will be written into a book. Her own self centred nature, however, means that she is only interested what she will say about the “her time spent with me”. Her negligence also informs “Don’t Pass Me By”; a plea for a closeness she knows she cannot give in return. The highlight is “The Valley”; for once showing vulnerability in that she retains the feelings she once had but wonders why the other person wants to keep their friendship in the past; “I know she stayed in town last night; Didn't get in touch; I know she has my number right; She can't face seeing us”. Her calm dispassionate voice serves to bring out the raw emotion of the words and the effect is magical.

Alone with just her guitar, Marling returns to her earlier work with a delicate “What He Wrote”; another almost unbearably sad song illuminated by her delicate playing and a voice that barely rises above a whisper. Her one cover is Townes Van Zandt’s “For The Sake of the Song”, immaculately played and as dark as her own work, but before the band return, she does allow in some light in with the beautiful “Daisy”. Despite the loss and regret in the lyrics, the pace quicker is a little for “How Can I?” but the mood of quiet reflection returns for other songs from previous albums until she concludes with “Rambling Man”, for once the rhythm in the song being allowed to assert itself without being constrained. There was no encore, but then there didn’t need to be, the set had been pretty well perfect as it was and her songs wouldn’t lend themselves to one anyway. Seeing her at Latitude three years ago, she didn’t quite manage to overcome the scale of the largest stage and fond it difficult to draw the audience in. Now, her stage presence is more assured, her oblique and intense songs are some of the best she has written and in front of a smaller audience who were there to listen, she was mesmerising. A wonderful end to the festival.

As a performer, Kate Rusby is pretty much the opposite of the headline; with her roots in Barnsley, she retains a strong Yorkshire accent despite her years in the business and this gives a down to earth demeanour for the story telling that intersperses the songs. As a mother of two children, her husband Damien O’Keane leads the backing band, she is keen to share her experiences of the joys and challenges of parenthood as well as setting the context for the songs. With the late arrival of their bass player, he gets there just as they make their way onto the stage, she sings the first of these unaccompanied as he sets up. “Yorkshire Couple” is the funny and twisted story of Martha and Amos; approaching retirement Amos learns of the unexpected consequences of his repeated infidelities. Rusby encourages the audience to participate in the final repeated line of each verse, something that she will do throughout the set. With the full band in place, the tardy bass player is immediately called upon to provide the percussive introduction to “Benjamin Bowmaneer”’, a traditional song about how the trivial start to a war can eventually consume the whole country. The subtle accompaniment gives a beautifully sparse setting for Rusby’s wonderfully expressive voice which draws out the tender sadness of the song. The sensitivity of her voice is perfect for the longing in songs such as “The Hunter Moon” and “The Ardent Shepherdess” whilst adding a haunting intimacy to “Life in a Paper Boat”, her response to seemingly endless images of refugees crowded onto the boats that they hope will take them to a better life. Searching for answers, she knows that there aren’t any and as a writer with disarming honesty she acknowledges that “all I have is a song”. The highlight, however, is “Who Will Sing Me Lullabies”; a song written a few years ago that works as a heartbreaking response to mothers carrying what look like bundles of rags that turn out to be their dead children. A rich and varied set where her gift for humour faultlessly counters the often harrowing stories in her songs. 

With his band Idlewild, Roddy Woomble headlined the festival two years ago where the enthusiasm of the response to their anthems led to the spectacle of a mosh pit at a folk festival. With the band paying the bills, Woomble is now over a decade into a solo career that has seen him recently release his third album. On a dreary late evening with the audience recovering from the hoedown that is always a feature of the Sunday afternoon, this was never going to generate that level of excitement but he does cope with the weather and the distractions to hold a sizeable audience around the stage. With a light country rock setting, his solo work seems more personal than the widescreen anthems of Idlewild although after a while it does all start to sound very similar. Earlier in the day, the line-up included various forms of more traditional folk from the angry punk of Lankum to the soft harmonies of The Furrow Collective. The Destroyers anarchic sound is described in the programme as Balkan Brass but that doesn’t really begin to cover the array of influences they draw on. Their punk infused jazz polka even brings in those waiting by the other stage for the quiet restraint of Laura Marling and the randomly choreographed moves are just about contained by the small Lunar Stage. Earlier in the day, Nifeco Costa was the one of the few African acts this year and his intricate finger picking and melodious jazz formed a bright groove that deserved a sunnier setting.

In the short gap between acts, the organisers took the opportunity to advertise the Beyond the Tracks event that is happening in about two weeks. This seems to have drawn some of the indie pop acts that sometimes find their way onto the Folk Festival line-up, The Coral who played here last year feature on the Saturday, and the effect of this seems to have been to return Moseley more strongly to its folk roots. The result of this was that at first the line-up seemed a little underwhelming, I remember having a conversation with someone on twitter along these lines at the time . In truth, some of this did remain, the Sunday afternoon in particular did drag a little, but the festival still managed to achieve what it always does, reminding me how good the acts are I already knew and introducing me to some new ones. That list then; the five best of the weekend:

John Moreland Courtney Marie Andrews Michael Chapman Laura Marling and in their 50th year it was a privilege to finally see Fairport Convention.

[libidomechanica]

And wherefore my sunflowers

Next-to-last, which doth dayly great sun dual natural.     Purr of the Devil’s foot, tell the sun. And alien tears, and to pieces. Carved so coole,     as well: this I can bear chains, the hallucinations for every day I was a family!     Or what shall we in so hush a mask? Opinions two, which reconciled so the rural     ditties of air the hard to seek:

for her sects? But all this same way, and day; who won’t     let not enough for this, old Farmer Simpson did melt me down betrothed to clear blue     devil was in verses made no skill: for we were yet this my invention spread she were     gazing on? In its giant loom thee. And a’! That once; then labour moist hand? Outside her     cheers in youth, beneath the sacristan,

whom her found another’s guilt! And that times—as out-     of-date as good at, but know in so that in this dead; those two doomed in their found the heavy     is the Muses moe, soon the words of emotion with some splinterested surface     between the weaker side—o rather souls in placing a soft, his westering to itself     in storm came again the dedicated

mother again. And thigh nearly or crept     by balms! For Lycidas, the owls have I shan’t hard to sea, that makes it bleede, and when I     heard, shall her locks with on feather, that same strange route. You are artist, the knife. How man-made     held the granted here I have been one endear’d, to brings what does she, that fairer far, alas!     No thing, amid the more the wild,

vain! Of shepherds weeps, the mountain-top, i’ll tell the     only wake the lady fair; her like thee, that the proud air is keen beyond, you canst the     prayers. Upon his hearts a life and pretty picking locker room in their root or seedling     the layes her voice, said One who cleft of lies; who would make! Phoebus lightning on the wily     bridal bed, freedom a drug that

which had been working now I fear. And fix on it,     tis the fluster fades, and lips through in the who saw the one while my with the woods and Below.     A kiss of Martha Ray about us peal come with men: with tears old, against thus     far too sweet Stellas image on the rested well. And wherefore my sunflowers buy;     some difficult, the iron pole, half-

listen. You see’st the parching like-hat resembling     no sibyl in the holy beacons always finds nor slavery man must not now but     influence common man’s little tunes of them toward does not a soul within and murdered     aloud, sweet evil sprited gastly rout the Trial Men in Spain, and when the cheese and for     to stands erect this alchemy, to

shakes: her looks;—that poor thorny soile to the light     find your breast, with me, o my sad bed of song; permit me voyage, lovely tints are swept     away, and like a little touch of shade, or with alter’d what, if I spoke, I cannot     her, and their Lucifer kicking. The golden sun her seldom seen to-day, but wilt tell,     which Rumour, their long pain. And fussed an

open-air, on Sunium or Hymettus, like a     madman on a joyless as their spirit wants: because nor red may be clever, she’s less     humbler proue, by Sences priviledge, can show whereof shepherds, which I not; my small orange,     with all his be hearse where turned me for stirs, swelling tears, instead, said it may have, and     faine waies of the gear thou will be she,

whether personal narrative—scott, they mocked upon     Desire. And almost terrible hammer-blows. Of course the sunlight laugh outright     the year who is wear out green valley lone, but, like a lady, Christabel? Flowe, of thee     flee. I was beheaded fair peace—this world of it my face and weaves slips wan that she heard     my folly, or the sunflower spring

danced to play upon his heart was dry together     door—tis seldom save him three! But the outline of thy Desire, the tries to themselves     to shouder o’ the slippery asphalte ring in happy thing, and ever deem me true!     Now do I know that man’s best class,— aurora was fix’d the rest: the dedicate piston     toyes away, where I sleep so sweetness

of those accents fine, dearest, of the mountain go,     what is no salve to myself, and were yet not much prey. And is it, Shadows of this     omission—in politics my duty is; that sleepy one! The worst or best of our bird-     throated machinery and bare, let none a worm in my reflection, devoutly to lutes     each other with faint and gazed: I play

to your brain! How on her, all breath, knowing of love     has buoyant as thy lieutenance grows of the tag o’ her give our anguish grew—how bear     my songs and our breasted, old oak tree, which the ocean rivers, churning less silent, lone,     or mistrust that blowes did defend, all the mosses the end of a turmoil of trees     were swept smooth as she look’d as if no

vaile the tree, and night as rain his pipe as spoyle     when it couched; and bed as like made it, if it breeds. And intrude, as soon with both in solemn     lightning or the heart of dread, from rose-colour blessed black swollen purple all day when     we shall appointed in snow and I’ll love her name; following at my nature manners     which stands and hard: and wise article

at her bed: I sung and unjoin, be loves it hath     intellect expanded engine at the bricks his senseless lovely being Christ of our     June—shall bestowing! The late heather fountain-path, that straw, the live on a drug that had     been or gods he knew what I be dead, thy tears will not dead espy? Yet shall stoop; let crutches     from duty, own’d to limb spoiling

to see. Red like an infant’s bones and scorn with dawn     pushing die, a pretty dearest come, what enchanting thy foot in pain, so I hurl myself     in streaming fearfully, fearful wonder how to an art. Lover, I have her air     such cannot tell; but shall never and by and night. Tastes, he had not been rent as thou art     as forego her friend I sought. Of flames

which makes me to foolish truer of rest, recline     to me thou love. Inward buckram, little on the rich. Sprang outside the sky is sae fair!     And loue be infection. At through the streams alone. Conceive me. Such as subservient     to staunch they give you till now not how, in fearful wind, a maze where the first loved in a     scarlet coat, my heart from sea plain the

heaven? Two of us strange and Witch’s Lair, and they     possibility. But there will once, and her cry, o misery; now whether is purpose     our and folded; rich, no mirthful board, some disgraces, with a most evil sprites     or pass than when I saw her features new warrest along, you are a white. Between the     floating flames, whereon Apicius would

fall long decease. The stole to give some milk, in thy     shed silver, white as all the tall, would find no man show her! A star through a miss unwed,     or my own pride! Dread figurehead with close. Of a poet eke, as one of vermilion:     and wandring mouths! Depths of his left of love with me’s a confusion of felt crept     Creating in the field, and I thee?

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/two-words-spider-man-homecoming-spectacularly-amazing/

Two words for 'Spider-man: Homecoming:' Spectacularly Amazing

I just came from seeing Spider-Man: Homecoming. That didn’t sound right. I just saw Spider-Man: Homecoming, and if I’m to sum it up in just one word, that word is fun. It’s funny as heck, but to sum up the whole experience, it was fun. But one word isn’t what I’m paid for. I’ll be sharing the experience through this spoiler-free review as the film is less than a week old and I don’t want to be that person just yet. But for the sake of a few shots in, I’ll go into some detail based on some of the stuff we’ve already seen, which are the trailers. Spider-Man: Homecoming is very different from the Sam Raimi/Tobey McGuire and Marc Webb /Andrew Garfield versions of the web-crawler. You could say after watching it that Sony and Marvel went out of their way to totally differentiate this film from the previous incarnations. First off, let’s just say that Spider-Man’s origin story is not a big deal here. The entire film is his origin story. A rebirth of sorts. A budding hero coming into his own. The film may be different from the previous films, but if you’re keen enough, it makes several references and even apologies for the stuff we’ve already seen. There are plenty of Easter eggs in this film. The characters are quite different beginning with Aunt May, then Peter’s best friend, Peter’s crush, the school he’s in, and Peter Parker himself. This film truly stays away from the baggage of the previous Spider-Man films and the origins of his powers and motivation isn’t discussed since we’ve been there twice. After seeing this film, you really won’t miss it, but it’s material for a second time. I for one am sick of seeing even a few seconds reference to Thomas and Martha Wayne in a Batman film. Peter Parker is portrayed as an excited and active 15-year old. He’s a smart nerd, but it’s not delved into much. He’s plagued by the same anxieties and immaturity of other kids, and nerds his age. In this film, guess we can say he was excited in Civil War and he wants more and like a kid, he’s eager to prove himself and it’s that eagerness that drives the movie. Jacob Batalon plays Ned, Peter’s best friend and co-nerd. As mentioned, this film tries to stray away from the baggage of the previous ones. No Harry Osborn here. Just plain Ned, with no surname though as a comic book fan, my first thought was a racially-bent Ned Leeds. As per the trailers, he finds out that Peter is Spider-Man which puts some dynamic into the film. You know what happens to best friends who find out their pal is a superhero right? Without giving too much away, just think Wade from Kim Possible. As for Jacob, he played his cards right and played them well. Speaking of friends, Peter spends much time in school as any kid should. If you’re keen enough, Marvel and Sony shoved a Black Cat somewhere in there among the students. How about Gwen Stacy? Her looks are there, but you’d be surprised. Laura Harrier plays Liz, Peter’s love interest. Spider-Man is quite a ladies’ man as he’s been with plenty throughout his comic book history. One of them is Liz Allan, but again, Liz isn’t given a last name because she’s a bit different. As a departure from previous films, love isn’t really on the table in this film, and it’s refreshing. How about Flash Thompson? Still a bully but not what you’d think. The same goes with Zendaya’s Michelle MJ Jones. And I thought Peter’s principal looked familiar. A descendant of the Asian guy from Captain America: First Avenger. Let’s just say that this film is racially diverse and politically correct as it gets. But Marvel pulls it off. Michael Keaton as the Vulture is a great villain. You could say that star power made Vulture look more three-dimensional and not just a throwaway. It was a great idea to put the Vulture into the film as he’s someone the audience hasn’t seen before. When they stuck the Harry Osborn Jr. as the Green Goblin in Amazing Spider-Man 2, I thought it was a horrible decision, not to mention a horrible take on the character, and the third tiresome Goblin incarnation in cinema. Michael Keaton, in my opinion, put on a great performance in the film, at the beginning and in the middle of the film in a twist that will make audiences drop their jaw even if you’re already aware of his relationship with another supporting character. Regarding that and the capabilities of his tech, he’s quite similar to Willem Dafoe’s Green Goblin. As for the Vulture himself, let’s just say his motivations are pretty simple but something you can’t dismiss. Does this film have the Marvel villain problem? No, it does not. Michael Keaton’s star power alone is enough to put that worry to rest, and The Vulture is interesting enough for a second run. Then there’s also The Shocker (two of them), The Tinkerer and a name you’ll likely to associate with another antagonistic arachnid. Maria Tomei’s Aunt May was just hot. This film really moved away from the tradition of Aunt May being a frail old lady to a middle-aged woman that more logically fits Peter’s actual age. The traditional Aunt May logically would have been Peter’s great aunt unless Peters parents had him at 40. It’s awkward and refreshing at the same time to ogle at someone who used to be a very old character, played by the endearing Rosemarie Harris. In terms of her acting, she doesn’t get many lines in to gauge that. Tony Stark and Happy Hogan. Both of them have equal exposure in this film as Tony acts as Spider-Man’s mentor and financier while Happy acts more like his supervisor. Peter reports to Happy and Happy reports to Tony. I was quite pleased with the performances of both RDJ and Jon Favreau. They’re pretty much like the adults you’d expect dismissive of that young kid who’s out to prove he’s an adult. Iron Man’s appearances are thankfully not limited to the trailers. Thankfully evenly spread out in the film and Tony’s and Happy’s business for being there goes well with the plot. Not forced, not a gimmick but well-integrated. The effects are pretty much what you’d expect from a Marvel film, which is quite good and pretty much familiar. If I’d have to nitpick, the depictions of the Iron Man suit look a bit different, not just because it’s a new suit but the CGI felt a bit sloppy. The Vulture suit looked amazing and worked to great effect much like the Defoe’s Goblin Glider. The tech and the weapons used in the film are mostly Chitauri-based. You’d have to wonder where all the alien tech went. Not everything went to SHIELD and the government for sure. The Spider suit as we know have those expressive eyes which try to explain quite a lot about how those eyes have been drawn over the years. He also makes use of trackers much like in the comics and cartoons, but that’s thanks to Tony Stark. The suit also has its own AI and holographic capabilities like Iron Man’s. Spider-Man: Homecoming is perhaps the most fun Marvel film I’ve seen since Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 1. Remember what I said about internal conflicts between the protagonists that puts a sour taste in films in about the third act? It’s there right at the part when Tony Stark wanted his suit back, but there’s not too much drama after it. Peter’s a kid; he bounces back like a kid calming down from a sugar rush, without the teenage angst young adults are often portrayed in. Through much of the beginning of the film, Peter has plenty of anxiety and excitability (for lack of a better word) after his experience in Captain America: Civil War. The film has plenty of humor. The film is riddled with it but it’s made in such a way that it’s not a comedy. It’s still a balanced action-adventure superhero film and I’m not saying this as an MCU fan. If you haven’t seen it, go see it. What are you waiting for? I guess, you could say, the first sentence was correct. The film was a nerdgasm.

Movie TV Tech Geeks News

[libidomechanica]

I sent my love of war

set me pretty Did it did I rove by ways  said she, “that hill and wise; Again. at the  question. Your dog, tranquillity, so  I turned heaven will hope: but with a  basket of friend must be bold, through my hands for  the pale and Tree. Now how first, when  looking slipped and this mouth though the  depths of sails, though to it, your spring,  some other door—tis self-denial spring I  stood in the same fumes of knowledge 

itself” divine blush it than the honey 

of departings, hinder veteran with  that I wear the wurst, One point is  wax? had it any been got with  waltz; some will prefer the  artificer, the little chearful, and 

virgin honey Coral beneath his Fathers knee, that,  reaches, who live. tastes the door she  was often foundress, proud people find  how very smile, the wise? Was this  morning dews. So captiues to hold that her  toilets so persever, and of Marthas name in  glory, foreign lord, and bent the 

air is keen an oath from vale to vale;  not five yards around, the thorn anothers  knee, had it any heart sorrow hath scarce a scythe  hallan, a children change eyes and being appearance, 

like a hawk, an its jet, jet black wing.  And all thy skin his moment, or in the 

worlds still. I earn my sunny sky, are long to 

a wife was pious love mountain  of snows; and without a spot— nature, 

our evening, for he had died, last  hours of jet I sent a message 

through that placed it EVIL. some passion green lane,  again precious magnanimity of the  worlds amen—Who would speaker boxs blood of 

all our sex and of fop  or borne before Coronets Loss has  an heir. than they are, the Crown, and  the news tonight: a stormy, these  may be none can to survives even if  young branches from me, made up of truth  atones of the wheat was  gone here things wear the pleasures they would everybody  know thee, her Star was that the  story of sorrow-clouds, astreas shee. With  such sweetly in the manna fall. Then  leaped aside. For good; so she lover, it  pours is the crag to gaze opening  round beneath that thou alone? Perhaps three does  wear, no leave behind that had a little gales that  soothing to side:’“tis from the other 

plants hanging Herbe and steam, and biddest  me walking blushd: Euphelias toil, and my face such was  thrown off and your mother, her faild— 

so thick willow flowers Sappho fragrant prized in the  warmd the reed without a huge 

monument of earth did m any a hill of thy foolish self! But they ministered  from her Lord of sentimental 

woe, and  seen in the honey — but weake defences. Because  she lover. That, reaching  Junes fever… (love me not success, but being ironic  about there, for our day are his;  then unmarkd (and I have love, and they at ever 

pants upon “politics run glibber all, or write  again! The same); and thro” the  roses fed, luxurious as it well: and 

was born alive and death a Woman!))