#Rynd

[weatherbane]

one day i’ll stop picking on rynd (no i wont)

[based off this text post]

[leighsartworks216]

What's the point of ocs if I can't torture them??

Comic of Rynd (they/them), my dnd character. This took 6 hours and 40 minutes to make, but I was so invested in drawing this that I felt absolutely none of that time pass.

[eglerieth]

Translating the Song of Beren and Luthien into Sindarin!

i laid nî ann, in glae nî calen

i saew-lûth tond a bain

a mi i lant - ae! - calad

o giliath mi doath silivren

Tinúviel nî lilt ennas

an linnas o thibin altirad

a galad o giliath nî mi finnathdeith

a mi hammadeith silivren

ennas Beren tùliel o ered ring

a dom ranë nu lais

a mivan i heb-edhil duin nornt

padantë air a nírol

cenë mi i saew-lais

a tírant di elven mellys

po colldeith a rainc-hammadeith

a finnadeith sui dae aphadol

elven nestant taildeid lom

han thar emyn nî amarthan an rain

a e rongantë, thalion a lim

a mabant na aglannim o ithil celair

tre-remmen glad mi Neldoreth

is colui horthant na lilthatail

a lefn Beren air eno an rain

mi i dínen tawar lastad

lhaent ennas rem i rimp law

o tail colui sui melhûn-galadh lais

egor linnas eithela nucae

mi thurin gryd potha

hi thern hoda i saew-thrimpim

a mîn-ar-mîn na fírlaw

na lhoss dannant i neldor-lais

mi i rhîw-taur potha

e cestant ín him, raun haer

mivan lais o íniath nî delch hodant

ar calad o ithil a aglann o el

mí menel sui hell potha

colldeith glînnant mîn i ithilgalad

ir bo amoncaw raud a haer

Tinúviel lilthant, a na taildeith nî hodant

hîth o celeb potha

ir rhîw lúda, ad-tolantë

a linnë leithiant i bragol ethuil

sui orthad amrent, a dannad ross

a medhiant nen gwelch

tírantë i edhellys eithela

os taildeith, a ad-cyrant

anírantë arë an lilt a linnon

or i glae algumri

adribant dîn ach lim tolantë

Tinúviel! Tinúviel!

estannenë in di edhel-enethdeith

a tass dîn darant lastad

min luig tarant dîn, a lûth

glimdeid caedant bo dîn: Beren tolant

a amarth dannant bo Tinúviel

han mi raincë hodant silivren

ir Beren cennant mî hent dîn

mîn i dúaith o fingimdeith

i potha gilgalad o i menel

tírantë ennas cenedrilant silivren

Tinúviel i edhel-bain

alfirin gwen edhel-sael

os Beren hantant gwathui fingimdeith

a rainc sui celeb silivren

annan nî i yr amarth ti colant

thar sarn emyn ring a mith

tre-rynd o ang a morn fen

a taurim o dúath alordolel

i sathantgaer mi ti hodant

a ach na vedui ti ad-govannen

a annan-ia ti gwanwen

mi i taur lindant alnaeras

[gotyouanyway]

ive never seen dw, theres naming conventions for time lords?? genuinely curious

other people have written it up better than me but yes, loosely! to start off they typically have very long single names that get shortened to the first few syllables

romanadvoratrelundar -> romana

vansellostophossius -> vansell

for a couple examples off the top of my head.

beyond that it’s a little hard to pin down exactly what’s typical for a time lord name bc they vary a lot, but once you’ve heard a bunch you kinda get a feel for it. there are a lot of hard consonants, and most syllables are consonant-vowel-consonant, making the names quite solid and heavy sounding, but really easy to pronounce/understand for english speakers (imo). examples of that would be narvin, andred, hossak.. but it isn’t a rule and a lottt of names break that pattern so it can really be anything at the end of the day

there are some commonly used syllables/sounds as well though, like tor (torvic, torvald) and -ax (drax, jelpax, braxiatel, maxil).

and those are the more normal ones but there are some weird ones out there too, depending on who wrote them. i think rynde and satthralope from lungbarrow sound more like elves than time lords, and i need not even say anything about homunculette from alien bodies

[missanthropicprinciple]

"Open the window Captain Rynde!!"

[honora-antares]

I'm calling this wip:

The Beholder

"...as neere is Fancie to Beautie, as the pricke to the Rose, as the stalke to the rynde, as the earth to the roote." -John Lyly's, Euphues and his England

Pairings: Sirius Black/Severus Snape, James Potter/Lily Evans, and Other Minor Pairings

enjoy!

July, 1979

There was a sense of nostalgia when Sirius entered the breakfast nook. It almost felt as if he was walking one summer morning in the Potters residence, trekking barefooted down carpeted steps to where he could hear laughter and happiness. Though it was well into the month of July, the sense of summer holidays had all but been done for. Had been for roughly a year now.

Still, he could pretend. Though with the added picture of one Lily Evans, soon to be Potter, in front of the hot, stone hearth.

“And that's the last of them.” Lily chirped as she took out freshly baked buns before placing them on the metal racks to her left to cool. “Morning, Sirius! You beat James today.”

He lets out a sleepy laugh, feels the warmth it brings from within and settles on a high stool that's against the wall separating the nook from the kitchen. “I'm not surprised, Remus had him by the antlers in the last quidditch game last night.”

They had all gathered for the weekend, Remus taking the two days off from his internship in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Using his status as a werewolf as an excuse to “further his data collection” and whatnot. He's aiming to change the views that his kind gets. Working hard in getting the public to understand the circumstances of his situation. It hasn't been long, but there's hope.

Peter had been the one to leave first. Having to go pick up his wife from his in-laws. It came as a shock to everyone in their group. All of them had thought James would be the one to propose and marry first. Alas, Peter had beaten him to it. So far that when Peter had announced to them Charity’s pregnancy over Saturday dinner, James almost fainted. Married and pregnant all within a span of seven months was a feat only Peter could have pulled off. Of course everyone was beyond delighted. Fleamont had gone to the cellar and brought up his favourite scotch that he keeps for special occasions such as this.

Truly a special day; the next generation of The Marauders. Sirius couldn't wait.

“Well, that's no excuse to sleep in late.” Lily states as she takes off the apron from around her neck and waist. “I'll go wake him up. Mum and dad are waiting for us to eat breakfast with them. Will you come too?”

Sirius ponders her question. Both Effie and Monty had gone out for breakfast themselves. Save for the staff and house elves, the manor would be left empty. Ah, fuck it, he had nothing better to do but sleep the day away. Might as well meet the people who will become James' family come September.

“I'll come. I've always wondered if your family has red hair like you.”

“You will be sorely disappointed.” Laughs Lily as she leaves the kitchen to wake her fiancé.

Sirius doesn't reply. Instead, he hops off the stool and steals a still hot bun from the rack, needing to blow just a bit to speed up its cooling.

It takes James thirty-seven minutes to leave his bed, shower, and get dressed. Really, considering the circumstances, it could be a new record. He usually takes an hour in the shower alone. Dressed in a simple dark grey jumper and jeans, James enters the breakfast nook where Sirius was reading the cookbook Lily had left out.

“I haven't felt this sore after flying since first year. Merlin, you stop riding for a few months and it all goes out the window.” James laments as he struggles to clip his watch on. “I swear my nethers looked a bit swollen!”

Sirius laughs when Lily shows up, slapping the back of his head with her scarf, “Henry James Potter, you will cease with your vulgarity!”

Pushing past them, she then goes to fist up a good amount of Floo powder before entering the fireplace. With a glare directed at James, Lily lets the glittery powder fall as she clearly pronounces her destination. "The Trolls’ Stool, Manchester!”

Like The Leaky Cauldron in London, The Trolls Stool was a gateway into the Wizarding fold through a wall-sized mirror at the back of the restaurant. In their case, the Floo channel was one that was open all hours of the day. Since Lily's parents were still Muggles, there was no way the Ministry would allow for their fireplace to be turned into a Floo channel. Hence the reason they travelled to the restaurant in the first place. From there, it's a simple twenty minute cab drive to 19 Finchley Grove, Spinner’s End.

Lily's childhood home was—like most others across Europe—semi attached to its neighbour's right. Built in red-orange bricks and brown roof tiles, its door is a similar colour to its exterior. Two steel gates attached to a brick fence separate the home from the walking path. Lily instructs the cab driver to turn in through the larger of the fences that's already opened, a middle-aged man stands by, waving as they drive by.

When Sirius exits the vehicle, the man is making his way towards them, a bright smile on his face as he goes to hug Lily. Her father, he figures, if not from the familiarity, then from the shade of green their eyes share.

“There you are, Flower, I was beginning to think you two had run into some sort of trouble!” mused the man as Lily returned the hug with enthusiasm only a daughter who hasn't seen her father in years—though it's only been days—could muster. Sirius took the time to look around the spacious porch. Squared tiles line the ground, leading to the front steps, flower beds keeping them company.

“That would be my fault, Charlie.” James explained as he rounded the cab to accept the opened arms of both his fiancee and future father-in-law, creating a bubble of warmth. Sirius listens absentmindedly as he comes closer to the flowers. There's so many, yet he only notices four different kinds. The pink roses were the most recognizable, their colouring a vibrant pink with pale whites on their insides. Behind their shrubs, tall stems with long leafs and white bulbs not yet sprouted provide a nice contrast. To the other side, more white flowers, although significantly smaller, make up the bed to vivacious violet.

There's another kind of flower, ways to the back, almost covered up completely by the natural greenery of the rest. Sirius could make out the telltale signs of a deep blue before his attention was lured back to his friends.

“Hey, Sirius!” The flowers were left forgotten as he makes his way back, Lily has a hand outstretched to him and she grabs his own once he was close enough. “Let me introduce you!” She gestures to the hearty man in front of them, "This is Dad,” her hand comes back to him, “Dad, this is Sirius Black, James’ best mate.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Sirius steals a quick glance to Lily, his grin reaching his eyes, “Dad.”

Lily's dad laughs at her groan as he accepts his handshake. “Charlie Evans, but feel free to call me Dad if you so wish.”

Sirius mirrors his laugh, it's been so long since he had smiled as much as he has this past month. The life of an Heir is no sweet feat as others think it is. As soon as his graduation dinner was over and done with, his mother wasted no time in shipping him out of the country to visit all Black estates around Europe. A whole year of travelling, only staying in one place for a couple of weeks at a time took a toll on him.

His last stop before James had sent him a wedding invitation, he was overseeing the pearl farms the family had in Romania. He left not a day later, stating he had personal business back home to attend to. The family incharge of taking care of the farms were—of course—understanding and bid him a safe journey home. Sirius decided it would be in his best interest to inform his mother of his early departure himself, therefore he asked the family to let their Lord know that there was no reason for him to notify Lady Black of his conclusion. And Sirius did. The day after he arrived in London and was well on his way to the Potter Mansion.

Sirius follows James and Lily inside, meanwhile Charlie stays behind to pay the cab driver making sure to lock the gate closed after its departure. The interior shares the same feeling as the outside. Warm and cosy, with the family room being the first to welcome guests. The wall that connects with the neighbours has the hearth, its brick as red as the fire itself; its stone as black as the soot that makes up its bed. On the opposite side, two suede lawson sofas are positioned in an L shape with a one seater in between. A bay window, almost the same height as the wall, illuminates the room with natural light, its own sofa littered with pillows and books for whoever claims the spot for a leisurely afternoon.

A door could be heard closing through the beaded curtains that lead further into the rest of the home. Now that they're inside, Sirius removes his jumper. Folding it over his arm as he continues his solo tour of the room where he once again stops in front of the fireplace and picks up a frame. Two young girls sit on a grassy field surrounded by white blossoms. The older, blonde girl was sitting behind the younger redhead, braiding it in messy knots.

Lily's sister, he deduces.

Chatter increases in the other room, so he heads towards it, leaving his jumper on the arm of one of the sofas. Lily was hugging a petite woman, hair tied up in a tight bun on top of her head.

Blonde, just like Lily's sister, just like her father. She really is the only redhead in her family. Lily could easily be mistaken for a Prewett with her hair colouring. A Weasley at it, too, were it not for her green eyes.

That's a queer thing when it comes to Wizarding families. Eye colours, that is, especially those with Noble Blood as some call themselves. The Prewett's are differentiated from the Weasley’s by their rich brown eyes. A clear contrast from the Weasley's clear blues.

Although… On his travels, he came across a Prewett that married into the Weasley family. Depending on which one of their Magic manifests on their children will determine their colours. But there is no denying that their hair will be red.

As for Lily's and James', if they ever have children, he has a feeling that her genes will fight through Jame's blood.

As for himself, the Black family is famous for their storming greys. Unless paired with another noble family, they will always be grey.

He noticed Charlie enter the house after his wife, preferably having gone round the back after locking up the gate. He was holding a basket with some kind of red produce inside.

“And you must be Sirius!” He turned towards the bubbling voice beside him and had but a moment before he was captured in another tight hug. When let go, the sturdy arms that had wound up around him were now cradling his face. “My, but aren't you as handsome as James said!”

It happened so quickly that Sirius was left overwhelmed by the time he looked upon the woman, Lily's mother, who had the brightest green eyes he had ever seen. Even more so than that of her daughters’. It was not a joke when he thought that the sunlight reflecting off her eyes was blinding. If one could withstand the glare, he's sure they would be able to see their own reflection on them.

“Hullo,” he managed to greet with two hands partially squishing his cheeks, making it a bit difficult to speak. “You have lovely eyes.”

She beamed at him, wrinkles crowning said eyes as she brought him in for another hug. “Charming too!”

Sirius stepped back once he was released again, he will admit that he'd missed physical contact with all the professionalism he had to display on his travels. He felt the same warmth from earlier coiling inside him, making him feel like the very buns Lily had baked.

“Where are my manners! Margaret Evans, but please, call me Daisy.” She, Daisy, extends her hand. Sirius accepts it, then, in a very Sirius-fashion, brings it to his lips and gives it a small, gentle kiss.

“Very enchanted, Dame Marguerite.” he makes sure to accentuate his mother’s tongue, the r’s fluidly rolling. “A beautiful name, for a beautiful flower.”

Margaret, Daisy, lets out a laugh. Her unoccupied hand reaches towards his face as she gently pats his cheek with fondness. “And a total flirt, just as my Lily had said.”

He looks towards the couple who were busy setting up the table with cutlery with a raised brow, “I see I've been exposed.”

“All good things!” swears James, but Sirius notices the way the tip of his ears turn pink, as they always do when he's not being exactly truthful. They turn even more red at Sirius’ intense stare.

“And complaints—about how lonely he's been without Padfoot.” Adds Lily, “Skulking about the manors’ forested land as Prongs before he comes back inside, wrapping himself up in that invisibility cloak of his in front of the fireplace.”

James had gone completely red in the face, his hazel eyes pronounced even more by the flush over his tan skin. “I do not “skulk about”! Prongs needs his runs!”

Charlie returns to the table from where he had been washing the cherry tomatoes that were brought in from outside. Now, in a light yellow bowl, he sets them on the centre. Sirius nears the table at his gesture to the chair closest to the backyard doors. It's a comfortable size, so when he's joined by Daisy to his right, they have enough elbow space to reach for the breakfast Charlie had finished setting down while Lily and James were still conversing.

“And the cloak?” Lily asked, coming closer with a creamer, settling it in front of her mother.

Jame's face couldn't have turned more red, but it seemed like Lily's question could very well push for it to happen. “It's warm!”

Laughter encircled the breakfast table and Sirius would undoubtedly miss it once it's time for him to return to his duties. But for now, he enjoys this peaceful morning with his dear friends and their lovely family. And although he's content with the way his life is turning out, he still feels like there is something missing. Feels it in the deepest parts of his chest. And he won't know what it is, not until he stumbles across a young girl. One he's seen in passing through the corridors of a massive castle, always followed close by her brother who, with the exception of his curly hair, shares the same features as her.

He won't know what it is until he gazes down at the young girl’s eyes. The same deep blue eyes as a boy he once knew.

☆ミ

Thank you for making it to the end! ｖ(・ε・ｖ) I will upload this to my ao3 once it's completed ♡

[libidomechanica]

No drew the one good people

Those banish crimes: or glorious jewel haue I glimmer’s keepe like any coverlooks something Fantom workmanship thy tears, that your intends entrench’d in pedigression storm: no come in thy han greatly charm of each petty bond the narre, through the stones. And the plaine. No drew the one good people art louers woundings of fashion’d such let this unto her to matron backs, brake a Ladde wind women this quoth I all from his rynd is love, temperate her look’d together cheek; he can get by thou have gone, and Kidde: but turn once, and frenzies wheat himselfe for when your Misforth was I, to speake his first seated soul, its with rare pure, travel, a ripe them threat, nor coming out bloody disdeign’d thy trod being braid. I loved of he dispraising did bewayle as what’s race; yet neuer they spendthrifts’ heirs is a man; even to no shine, and dreery days of their hae I like a myle. Come, but to swing.

[welcometotheravenclawcommonroom]

To top it off- and I know it’s not the first time someone’s said this, not by a long shot- but just dealing with the everyday hassles of living in a world that’s not designed for you and makes no accommodations- not even the ones that would be easy!!!- is it’s own form of violence.

Every insidious policy- can’t save money if you’re on disability, can’t get married if you’re on disability- is another way of saying “we don’t want you here!” As a disabled professor of mine once put it, “they want us to live quietly and die quickly”. Every time they raise the price of insulin, and our protests do nothing, they’ve legally killed more people, because that’s what’s going to happen. State-sanctioned murder.

And on top of everything else- on top of the exhaustion of living in a world that’s not designed for us, even when those accommodations would be easy and simple- we’re supposed to advocate for ourselves and just. keep. telling. abled. people. the. same. goddamn. shit.

The burden of communication falls to us- “just tell me what you need!” Even though we’ve been telling you what we’ve needed for years and you’re not listening!!!

It’s fucking exhausting. We’ve been carrying the burden of communication on top of the exhaustion of living in a world that wasn’t designed for our needs for our whole damn lives, and then somehow it’s our fault that we don’t get the basic human decency we’re owed because you weren’t listening as we screamed it in any way we knew how and tried to tell you in language you understood, even when it wasn’t language that was easy or natural for us.

Self-advocacy is great and important, but it’s also a burden sometimes, even more so when sometimes just existing in a world that is actively working against you is an exhaustion too great to put words to. Especially when nobody listens to you anyway.

Being white knighted sucks, but sometimes abled people only listen to other abled people, so what are we supposed to do?! American Sign Language wasn’t even recognized as a language until a hearing linguist came along and said “hey guys, this has all the characteristics of a language!” Mind you, he had extensive help from two Deaf researchers, one of them an indigenous Hawaiian woman (I have forgotten all three names and googling them is hard atm since I’m on the move, but google is right there for you!).

My mother didn’t listen to anything I (autistic) tried to tell her in any way I knew about my communication style until my (presumably?) abled therapist called my mother to give her a “come to Jesus” type talk after I had the worst panic attack of my life in my therapist’s office. I still don’t know what that conversation entailed, but suddenly I was being at least somewhat listened to.

Abled people- listen to us. Fight for us. Take our tired voices and amplify exactly what we say. Take the burden of communication at least somewhat off our shoulders and do the work to meet us in the middle, because we’ve been doing the work to meet you at your end for years because we’ve had no other choice.

The disabled community is huge and multifaceted and has many different feelings about our various disabilities. For some of us, our disabilities aren’t even disabilities in our eyes, rather, we’re being actively disabled by the way the rest of the world treats us, and the road blocks they both knowingly and unknowingly place in our paths.

For other people, their conditions are genuinely painful and terrible and would still make life very difficult even in the best of circumstances- which they do not have- and it is the responsibility of the rest of us, as decent human beings, to do everything we can to create a world that is more livable for them. Because at the end of the day, humans do have a responsibility to each other. I don’t care what dystopian, Ann Rynd-ian mindset tells you otherwise, because you’re wrong. Humans make our most meaningful change and our greatest impact when we are working for each other.

So abled people- it is your ethical responsibility to listen to us and help us make a society where we are working for each other.

fyi things like insulin, hearing aids, wheelchairs, glasses costing money at all is a form of structural ableism

[weatherbane]

rynd: i had a thought 8565, only three cups of coffee into his day: please god not again

[leighsartworks216]

Not to dump my thoughts about my ocs in here but

Rynd, my very heavily sheltered bard who only knows what they know from old books and had to teach themself how to play their instrument, going to Wyll constantly for retellings of ballads he's heard and explanations for things they don't understand. (And there is a LOT they don't understand.) Sympathizes with him the most out of anybody else because of his deal with Mizora and his father banishing him, because they were always likened to an embodiment of Toldoth, a deity of darkness and destruction in the monastery they grew up, for nothing more than because they're a tiefling. They hang out and share stories and basically they're besties and Rynd tries never to leave the camp without him

Romero, who has traveled across the land and grew up in a very very full family of bards and creatives, having fun back and forth banters with Wyll. Teasing and flirting and joking, and all of their remarks made up on the spot. Despite being around so many bards (and being the son of a famous bard), he doesn't understand courting. At all. His father basically fucked and sucked his way around Faerûn, and only married his various partners and actually settled down probably about 30 years ago, so there was never any discussion about the "proper" way to date someone. So Wyll teaches him how to court someone and Romero soaks in all the old ballads about love, while creating new ones that tie in to Wyll's vision of a perfect courting. Romero helps him take care of his new horns (because he grew up with a tiefling parent and younger tiefling siblings) and regales him with tales his father told him. And ahhh idk I just really love them together

Wyll Ravengard is charisma king, he does not rehearse his romantic lines, his mind makes that shit up on the spot like it's nothing, see the light people!!!

[leighsartworks216]

More fanart of Astarion with one of my bards bc im so starved of dnd content with this character especiallyyy

(Character is Rynd, goes by they/them pronouns)

Template by mellon_soup on twitter, instagram, tiktok, pinterest and patreon (image below the cut)

[leanstooneside]

Barbra Streisand

1. Isaac de Queyran

2. Claude

3. Taylor

4. pierre

5. Mary Rynd's

6. Issobell Smyth

7. Samedy.—Catherine

8. Alison Device

9. Janet Thomson'.[411

10. pierre isol

11. sung

12. Kirkyard

13. Isobel Bairdie

14. ane tryme

15. Janet Brown

16. Annaple Thomson

17. Thomas Leyis

18. Lane

19. Bessie Vickar

20. Mary Green

[fangirlinglikeabus]

As the glasses were filled with emerald-coloured wine, Rynde said, 'Remember that ornamental hermit we had? The one that lived in a grotto up the mountain?'

ornamental hermit is my dream job actually

[authorbettyadams]

Humans are Weird – Thermoclines

#ShortStory #HFY #EarthIsSpaceAustralia #SpaceOrcs #ScienceFiction

[hubristicassholefight]

#elias is my favourite simply because (while it is despicable and i would not do it) i can imagine dooming the world in exchange immortality#ann rynd's philosophy and motivations never made sense to me so neither do andrew ryan's#elias might be a selfish hubristic asshole but he's a selfish hubristic asshole that i UNDERSTAND

Round 1 Part 1a

Andrew Ryan (Bioshock) vs Elias Bouchard/Jonah Magnus (The Magnus Archives)

Propaganda below the cut (Spoiler warning!)

Andrew Ryan

So you’re an objectivist tired of the world. So you build a city underwater for everyone who shares a mind like you. You think you’re so great. Then shit starts to happen. You watch people become monsters because you added zero drug regulations to your city. You have people be imprisoned and then turned into big daddies just for disagreeing with you . Third. At the end of it you just become a dictator, and go against your own beliefs. You send a woman down into the slums of rapture for disagreeing with you. You focusing so much on being so much of an Ayn Rand fanboy leads the woman with a completely different ideology than you to rise to power after your death. That’s, that’s Andrew Ryan for you.

Elinah Magchard (?)

Dude learned about evil fear gods and went "hmm power" and proceeded to feed all of his friends to fear gods, kill people to make himself immortal, emotionally kill and traumatize so many other employees, make his most manipulatable employee experience the horrors of the earth, and then force them to end the world, all so he could be his fear god's specialist little guy... and then still ended up begging for his life from said traumatized employee (who's coworkers he also got killed). The gall of this guy.

So like...he thinks he knows everything and can control everyone and he's an asshole and then one of the people in his office who he thought wasn't dangerous shows the police the recordings of him killing two people and he goes to prison and he's like "Buahh???" So yeah his hubris was thinking he was above being overthrown by the people under him ig. He's super duper obviously gay and is like really manipulative and he's a bitch but he's OUR bitch

[libidomechanica]

And preaches to each hath his rynd

And senate: now the gloomy Caracted your Man.     The sated where did presence coming dangers and we in a granite ne Hobbing quiet     that shone felon with the grandmother’s

squaw; also the language, grave i’ th’     unguardsman; and twitched wi’ a kind which her share that from their root is the posting changed: the cross     a certains crave might as I give theirs

is done, but effect a name you fill you Virginity     of the morrow—most with to her are and petals twain summer darkness; but seize     thy special chapel haue that are made

the Earth tear stood wild this darte. With the place with her     of crowned like morning lips: his bed in your looks to thine. Fanning thro’ the night-dark cavern     must be guiltlessedness this faire hath

my sweetly darts high she hies; tis the Fair, murmurs     of Manhattan is this lips, pass matters webs. Cupid is merciless wind. To who love     your bounded stranger is my years, whose

powre end thrugh to haue the vines in the mountain such     rites well those peace to speech compare: after there a fire: but it make, to be you suffers     not abate that ye hath vs of

they the very fawn an added ice. And, O shine,     which houe, when I saw he used as hint of my sisterious smell, plunderstand at old     ascendant? The kind of sweet can compare,

at last whispers used thine eye folk of that is gladly     scrib’d by blame. From the brown to doubt or rarely onward gracefulness, to drops, and     love, which I shrine, and she turns to please—

the many he stoup vnto sleep, nor weak. And his head,     but don’t exactly perilous from your eie remaine. It is the rose, or this armour,     or fill’d, nor of my grace: so hot dear.

Sick delight him sprung from rosemary way in watch’d     lies away the thro’ the rein my eye, hauled by descends the house and hung up to appear’d     flood. A waking some radice source one

placed with my virgins to mind—our brown, and me, left     us stars have to feign yokes with out a diamonda’s love. And ever leaues each hounds, benight     he’s honey cells, nought find I feel

the pure is hurt in Chloe wander’d around then     can’t decorum knowing golden of death; scathe, the hath so believers before a Body     looks in love although thereof I

do leaues bayes, but the life’s my slick to the beliefe     vayne that same from memory; and Intellence. Ten ye have to answered me. On all the     green, vapour down that make that life doth

presence was made one forst tinted. To all the Thirty-     nine, ’ would to-night, so gay mentine, and send a stealing will be bore his but doors! To     her, says itself sucks fragile visions

so that same? And this is to juggle, the time Song     numbers and decreed, it comparing is deathmonger off their hair singled with this kindle     of heaven, all sweet poet. Thou

truly, for though the moorlands from the bed fair starry     a tress the robe bene was but white yfere, so, one table to plain public tis     silent Nightmare reserve touch’d from sin,

for shewe the went that they are our mind, at nights heart     willowship with the black both sat sits, all the Brahmins of minde; my Muse he muses! Love’s     way, and sad distance them seuer; that not

blow, once the air so more athirst mongst his usual     thinke at myriads of dead. I have would never and round pronounce, we seen in his her     looks. So those dears he three Returning

streams—she had once; till doth rayne beams the moonlight it     the fire, nor his hold the blunt fist of her he had him if he took his son, want the passe     of her in the broad won. Cool depth.

And acts just given at even about glorious     flame. Not that made and wreck, or now it common thy foe, great communion, from Westers,     fullness, we are for easily round.