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libidomechanica · 2 months ago

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Return, he cried, “ah, for both,”

A curtal sonnet sequence

Which sought the steeds jet-black, each with him, and grasse ay green leaves; since there she frieseth in hell, for ever agape—bought? Not so lightning leaves bedew’d, awake no more fiercely like shee has not at first assay. Return, he cried, ah, for both, for a golden Day, which dost thou think to fancy me, or who cleft thee to the rush and be reckon’d of his mother’s feature of his face: he wrung it. Claymore and greet the saucepan shadow doth steepe.

And mask in a languish does not in our brotherly he takes his lady meek the Carpet of Destiny convulse us and his claws wept. Many now much worlds Theatre in which three days’ journey in a choral cave of comfort of the lights not in phrases so heau’n, and in mine eyes vnwares doe blynd boy Venus from the cloud; hear’st that tear! But I can tell by thine own sweet a softer voices sweet is the merry Damsels!

In all you fayre, that dark mantle hath me made, why did ye stoup vnto an humblesse mixt with such wit impart as what the crystal circlings mortal here? Who once laugh, for she would mount and go, mount and bless the passed us much. And hold in long languish to die ere I to weake flesh of our buried grief see, on the silence of all the world’s common place? Dying head upon thee fall frosen cold: but when I hope to feed by miracle.

My friends, and want and wore: and all the Dream has long and all weary of his young Bacchus kept him in their mossy footstep of lost liberty, which they did like I hold your hand. When my Gates shall it praises dew, it rauisht is with teares besprint. To give us breake out, thus to be as a ship of such snow is this worlds glory seemeth in mine eies with my hand of my body than those limpid eyes on fire—brake with salue of her.

Whence are weak; and dull the pleasure, and glory, that can speake her bowre within my brain is with cheese and wish to appease. Damon, who by blind with scarce espied: mid hush’d over the deep tone of us. Why such doe seemes from that we can jest, we know whether reioyce or weepe for great pow’rs, that thro’ the outer gate; the wretch!—A loud Hawaiian- print shirt and eyes of day-old pastries. Lest one, you have not only that here we too be dumb?

But what care I, aristocrat, democrat, autocrat—one who came wonderfull delight, too excellent, the women sang forth at length descry, myld humblesse your third, look for your arms are cut off from my spirit of things great dream! My soul, and flint doth last to that raw and life, the mother straine. Of a virgin’s blood clene washt from kissing, advaunce: and the content to sit beneath it selfe shall cling to endure through the warm delight.

Had he not with the Indias of the madonna and child, I heard! His heart, head, and then doe seemes to leaue vnto Gillyflowers that affections bred, beheld awakes— and, stranger! The price, the white Chastity. They cry’d in vain, come hither die. A light I have to say.—I could her by the winters wrathe and I grow cold. Shall couple. In this happy spirit’s lightning leaves, nor shall to stay. Her little longer dream’st what horror!

Yet dride, that liuing brest. Perhaps ye are thou thyself, and a father war be a cause or a consequence? Own soul conspire, for she would but harder she is no one to shonne: for wine, in clubs, of art, of politics; they lay calm-breathing low, and they ne dare not well assured vnto the people suppose me clever: this bed-fellow,—who can rule and wretched, forlorn had he not well enough to come, fall like milder pomander?

That prevented time: heaven you, his pale aspect both God only crossed, but even I, for one mans simple shepheard can astert: Fayre beames darkned be. Strong in the din of shadows on the spirit’s light to write above their stature more saluage wylde, that shall the greedy couetize, but lothe the sea and the selfe-same way, her, piano, in the sky went grey, as he live in a child but into the vanquish’d not, but bid you say?

You run about, circling wind shook the gods he threats with pearles and wield a Jovian thunder moan’d, he is smoke, that affect of two gold ingots, like Apollo, from kindling fyred. Fling in respect: the reach up the death hath spent her sport. And catch me red-handed slumber lay, and thou art or else shortly reascend. Doth Stella I descrie, teaching dumbe lips a nobler exercise her lyps, such grace I found me seemd the lady fair.

Shalt, beloved youth! There is no woman, came to see ye thus,—not very, very scorn of our night; and all circumference, of remotest glooms. In quest to have, great blacker pit, for with ruby wine, and all years to burn, with sullen-purple state of ease: the mother win; and one of us. The breeze is sent careful and soul sublime beyond all circumstance was thy prison forth th’ anduyle of her cold sward. Our heauy spright.

A rose-bud by my early from the memory from the tuck-in of a mother. Before, all those unheard from shape, a bought, without something tongue. Let it contend in love the house; but al my dayes in pining at large dark trees, and comfort fast, our hours tourney; then so high to something that I so much worlds Theatre in wild it stray amang the same at night clips, it flush’d the revolving year: so thou to Rome—at once again.

And they brooke somwhat they are ready to cheer, by this wild depression tires, and flowers and praysen babes the leopards play’d. His Psyche with reason of the tendernesses. She cried, ah, stay! Last Love, I am thy heart who in derring doe were the unblest kisses drew favour from thine own fyre, her wooed, and you loyalty; I know and touching here at Christmas. A something me back into thee!—Night drinks, and built beyond meed!

Wild depression throw me beneath my selfe kynd with the close conuay, into the rurall routes to sing your name upon this happy name her walls. Store of his yerely tas-ke, as shee was wrought he, Why am I not as are the day, and couple with a bitter Eldre braunches rough briar nor muffling through gilt wires a crafty lovingkindness, such a golden; in her should be caught inkling piano appassionate one.

But have pitch’d in Heaven’s airy dome was offering up to read. By due; where his goddesse tormenteth, in my necke doth eternall peace shall light: and in sight was gone—but once, in love! To a lord, whose sap is not- yet to the sign to happy dove? Projected by some unlook’d for her Vlisses sake, and al her face, shall prove many thou wert, but fayleth trusting on the tables every brake, deuiz’d a Web her wooers to outlive long date.

He sprang two steeds, within and then; the third my loue, it rauisht quite unnatural? I wish in their time’s decay, ’twas Bacchus and humbly came: my very hearts—our voice of pure affects, that is best, that bondage earst dyd fly. And near his tuning her great gods! I did leaue to rest: whose fruit and silvery, when he fell and glimmer, ye waves, round else unlighted sands; oh nightly to long bright or dim, as one who cries out for one man that.

Things matter of their soule with Learnings spade. And fans him with it, our hours tourne. So in the aisle. Your last wet with stars; there’s not my own. Many little linnet fondly prest; the death, but not to myself until Death as doome of the world with the trembling and fear: love aloud. Of Jove, the greater meede at last, be lyke a young Spring, flush Summer, golden fleece, theyr stead perforce must be confest, but thee all sort, and only Knows.

But what is ever a-spending quest, ended for every woe; before his race now to the morning, banishes ilk darksome shade. Sugary wings did flames, out of a Chain of Ten Intelligence so call’d; The One distributor of Evil and happie she, that table strife, the fly did them wonderment, of succour both my selfe likewise I have the head, which is, of course which I doe beholder passing: voices cheat me to please.

Once I invited arre. Not ayre; for she doe him by their dismay:&with our spirits do suggest me still didst thou go with tears and laughs and now shalt na drudge, or naething my daughters, sing no moe the song is the beauty was so fowly she roses taint, and, slowly as icy isle upon a shelf. On earthlie mould that shall murmur in the light, that nether to place untenance dew. Say, maiden, wilt thou forged a sevenfold story.

Where the glory thinke that learne with joy gone mad, with sterne countenance fill’d its crescented. Thou, Carian no word returne. The love I been a buttercup, bobolink, sugarduck, pumpkin, love ribbon, locket, valentine.—As her huge bright the first white dead to evening ray that with sidelong lacked food, to it doth allured, of those two on winged censer teeming tree’s supple bough, and thither he, not evident. The dark— Forgive me.

Love did this. No villain to brain, of leaves. She answers he; no Indes such lovelorn, silent be or shame: his fate most suppose we join hand my iust cause vniustly pale, his second blows the womb wherein theyr famous deedes. Old, old. As the damp death as doth eternall Loue, maintayned. Both good aduice: or pricke them by thee, and soften as if to a girl, and there rises crescented. I play jungle loud. Of the tear is used.

She wrapt in leade, in rymes, in her admire your faithfull thou mayst listening Echoes whom their garland so, that neuer I with my reflex yours is a precious you, that grove appeare, but talk you over, and drive from elsewhere, the world is light to me, she doth admire, twixt feare to looke. How I know that is the physician to my ear: hushed woods, dumb caves, and heavens silvery and bare shew cold that soone was with undaunted for ought.

Nor let me die, and rather the pious chronicle, o Dianeme, now cease to bless our simple name! Of Death repent. So to immortall mirrhor, as he can it not thy bliss, So sang theyr shewes but she his pass’d by, as of a friend to Phoebus, for fear this knot in my verse: which that neuer yet attayne: with wit my wit cannot pass away.—At this contaynd in your coat so astoundingly—a gift, a love gift utterly!

Nor to the kill. And to her arms; she kissed me, he beheld phoebe, his second passed date bids all on a day of sacrifice. Be gods they foster me beyond all the moon; and where you required—but something of soap and blue; whose wings and died; and mixt with knight her charms my sight, that vnder the day, where the tones of Time; and now shalt come to let thy love for such a golden Day, which, on eternal longing the glorious hand in hand.

Transmitted in the shaft which night! But he demand of all world that here on earth was fair, which, like a child, today two women in earth as lothsome and go, mount as high, and so I kept brimming thoughts, whose Waters lie a World was sister. With sorrow drowned. Nothing too deere for the piteous eyes: that which sought Why linger weeping wild, so deep inside myself—but out loud! Man of many heart’s flames of heaven, and want, because to looke.

Better part, like corpse, touch’d by the rest. His face teach me with sterne counted deare. So in the firmest flint doth still to behold that struggle to escape from some and flew through the sward he with a heart of eyes’ full gaze, and were in flowers; nor virgins o’er the dead, since to be prayses forth looking to go, vntill ye haue gayned: who could understand is no morning sounds straight he seiz’d her presence was our pryde: waile ye this bleeding book.

He is made one wide chasm of time and are for to subdue. Abandon then these, thou Vesper of its faint eyes, he came; and the sun. Of moonlight Emperor-moths, or Ralph who shines so in plight diffuse themselves at once the flying the dusk, a woman true as innocence: and that I, alas, doe want subject to no such one looked at noon his tenants, wife and clear, and all their pleasures hold; but from sin, may liue with Learnings spade.

And Love taught, sooth’d, lov’d, and songs of sorrow, is not evidence that one was stand: but do not; I would write your living Might, at euer went. Bloody cloth unfolds, disclosing to the River-gods, and look? Nor let us fare on forest, hold ye this I read for now you have actually tied and by this gloomy voice caress upon thy deerest relicks to beguile: but thy secret, tell ever by, one bitter blast blew all away.

’Fore which like a flowers, rush of rivers, and slow time, and weare away is flit, that from them forth th’ anduyle of her lips ill hung or stedfastness to him who lives beyond their way to battell, and I must spread the proper wife. Look at it pricking the cold sward. An air of mine take this knot in my murmur about the same and giue us sight to what my wit is my days can never man, I think for a moment see?

Julia, if I chance to be, to lose intense— lost to mortal man, who can rule and mountain-built within a bush pressing to her selfe they gaze on her faith proud mayd, whom none with heauen or her transferr’d. The airs and such melodies, that most sorts of flowers as it selfe the absence of that ye were caught to leave it strays through on the wind, who hath no revenge in her may you tell. And thou say’st, Live thou mourned hast, noy gynnes to prune, thought!

Outright, who art thou go with thy good one out. You have me fashion of the barbecue, you of the madhouse that from its velvet cheek disclosing tongue. This sinfull vice, that pitty neuer cease: but her spared store, behold, and in thy blooms, tricked, grenade-gravid, not by more augment my foes despight: and then she wonder, and hill and mock the solemn! Oft when I came to fetch from its velvet summer trees, and saw the whisper of it.

He inquire, in which those eyes I neuer ought worth did ly, thinking in public, no second blows the rest be with the breath whose globy ring upon it thus! His heauy spright. He inquire with choisest floureth fresh, as it had ne’er will finde no eloquent, is well—but tis nought may them selues of passions to keep here; nor do I dread or height the firmest flint doth diuide great those pure sport; a herd of boys with the tenth Muse, thought her marriage.

Of th’ inwardly, and sees pale aspect makes his being’s law, bade through me the hues of heroes gone! If she graunt small respit to myself at bals-paré, i’ve married? To spill the Echoes, and Glory? Past reason didst thou, mighty heartless Jeanie on thee; but see how we have fled, in a’ its crescented. But if sadde winter outside and hymns in thy sorrowes glide, and calumny and hands themselues of passionate fire.

A rose-bud, young fawne that hast but to saue were stripped tight. I needed, for my torment you for the first sweet saying to set my dull and groan’d, as if perchance, and might. Angle of bliss, but mine eare and died. The flower a goblin toasts a bumble-bee. The blooms of slavery—had hardened me to thee to this heart may behold her paine: all spred with facts. Where below, or be your body and move, thine shall lead with Ambrosial rest thief!

—There it will not wild and white without a germ or a song that heifer lowing gall. By that they gaze on her nipples lyke Pincks but newly spred, her brothers’ arms are cut off and no one near these late mouth as mine, as also her tongue? Nor moue the proudest loue which now his being both to each, against his wound a scarf of orange round it speak? From old Skiddaw’s top, when Winter doth his bow is bent, anxious as hind towards common place?

That I so much waits in the shade. Flew by hap. Culmination, avarice, pride, the Promethean clay by this storme hath of Love had deeply planned, I never live in a siluer sheene, but in your wineglass is so lovely idleness, as each to ease. The soft poppy dream; the Nightingale shall it pleasure, liue we so long as soote as Swanne. Well, how-so thou lament, would not with iuncats, fit to entertain and what wondrous soul!

When I all we lov’d of his mother’s body where lives a lull in that Salámán fell short hour of native land! She goes by. So beauty was so lucky place. Come, listening on their cruelly torment neuer blush so ever! Round with stone, I shall that doth displayd, it flush’d the playnts which I thee best. My business like early fruit in grain veneered with piteous spoyle. And were it glides, the other’s window, and always know bedbugs?

So he inward, and loue is th’ assurance need to fetter me? I said, Go, gentle child, and rymes, in whom fresh againe thou ivory, rubies that thou sit amid our regions art. But that French novel? He cried: Arise! More then so bad end for the shore, so the son,—the son a Walter, part affections bred, her glorie is but brings captiue quite dead Seasons traine, and stumped the skill vines to prune, thoughtless light and build their sighing ruth.

For ever effort, change. And the shadow smells like a thunder moan’d, came, veiling head upon a sleeper,—all his Soul she fill’d renown Cease, ye faint desire, but hides always borne, the new breath absorb thy sight, night health breeding on thee ’gainst thy cold sward. Of moonlight Emperor-moths, or Ralph who shine by nights, things that loosely they ne’er know, their flight, those dark-cluster’d are of earthly doom, the dead to you despite its breath, speeches well.

Answering weeds, and each to speak strange it seems that I could have shot me full of brightest! For when the springs of the moon; and thereto doth not journeying at so partial moan a portion of my sorrowing? Was not a soul so kind, gave sad assurance stronger sister. In finishing wonder. When I speakest of? And graunt, the Idoll of my purest part: and their lids shut longest in rymes, see where I stand we here?

Yellow pin on you in your heauy sledge he can it saue or spilling nature or is it, to rest: but when the grass, beneath whose globy rings even in dreams and shoots the fire: for the sweet is the little porringer and eat my side upon they golden; in her selfe with thy death and riddles as at Christ’s—oh! Two of us at Conway dwell and said, How long have you be sweet and just beyond the faded lockes fall frosen turne?

To see you coming home to listen! In this chant from the earth. If she were whole in thy abundance am I inspir’d and drew, from her selfe assurd, and bid a long as it’s wings and away a shadow. That which oft I wish that happened once, and shepheard can aslake. The kings of the loued not; will be? Fresh sin, he tries the rose and breeze from deafening scent came up from the soothsayers old saw yesternight giving hotness, did pray.

He will I to children of so sweet odour did thy Rosalind complayned: by slaying his arm he braces Pallas’ shield, and weary war hath preserve their anthemes sweet is the woods! Flower into his wild king to endure that did you say so, and in shade pass’d from infancy; and to go and heard not: down he dropt toward another Splendour on his ass, pelted with his capricious play about the people out in boils.

Heaven’s heart burnes; I cannot die the wood, amang the leftovers. And some yet lives a lull in the clock-work steamer paddling plied and now fancies vayne. Whom his green lizard, and twittered, Kate Brown’s on the stock from Carnal Error looke euer since ye deignd so goodly guifts are not perfections we compete sense do lie forgot as it his wound and said no and then not for Adonais. Burns bright signal that I recoiled feeling third.

Core, and all women desire to his rightful joys! Not just once, in true as in all her the first soft emotion, like linnets in their sweet eglantine, and memories clustered round else unlighted sands; oh night! So goodly ray at sighes stolne out, or kild before, myne eyes, through to pacify: that he it lies, that which the Lost Soul to telephone through the disease? At noon his tenants, wife and loveliest and eyes of day!

That nys on earth by spells and she to win her! And move like dying, and in hand. But when you have depart, his way. It makes bread and lov’d but when I am not lame, poor, nor dare I chide the shadowes sadness o’er me roll. Of a virgin that fayre Idea of your death the neast of loues fayrest ymages of her eyes so filled with expectation, and twining, and so remaine, that thou not aided me? Down with him, and blood.

The wide stream—the Champak odours fail like some star that shadow where thou find and hid the void air, and her great water: so doe I hope her sorowe see, sith neuer thing stays. Of trumpet spake: o Elenor, weak woman, you of their wings he leans away fast, our love for such art of little porringer and eat my side, and air, bidding the faded quite death-bed, her breath; fond wretched men to that I am in tormented urn.

In secrets should strike so mortality. Linnet fondly prest; the dungeon mingle with painful gusts, with a golden pines, Savory, latter-mint, and multitude, and ever by, one still as a yardstick. Oft have been a butterfly, a lord; and made the which all that in yougth and beauties budde, reliuen not for my happinesse, is but a shadowes vayne. All desyred, looke with a heart is cut in twain for the same again.

The great shepheards, that skill not help but kiss,— even to a pond of urine. And with food of sad Winter from an infant’s smile instead of pearls begem; see, on the dales of your devouring borough kingdoms wide:-come hither! If she graunt, then my spirit seemed the which mote peruart, vibrated, as a rogue in grain veneered with her make, or summergirl, funnygirl and also a private placed, soon they should she has fallen.

With a tongue. Walke in Elisian field is spread, on which my selfe, and wreake my harmes in field: is prison for every clime and follow Bacchus and how worth a pease, mourned hand is not to those eyes my loue did stirre vp coles of lofty looke on me doth allurement of May? As many long weary toyle, the rest of men, are pleasure brings me to me out empty. Last Love, I am all the world. There never learnt how to switch #1 with #3.

And my poore captyued hart: without a moan? Out of wedlock and what thy selfe soone after so long weary of his Desire. And all the little priefe: in her so wide, as is a rocke amidst thou think thee kind, but in her right, blind in pain, love which would be gracious moan in deep dell below, or be by him amearst with guile conspire, for she doth it selfe I meane loue cherish, if thou returne to common day; free-voic’d as one.

Day I wrote her too constant and why are we, and a light way; but I to ashes load an unlamented be: the gray city blocks lurch past which seals them slay, She knew it not worthy most enuide. He sung new sorrow, is it they then disarming dismally through the death approve, no dislike the stores and rubyes richest tree, beneath the bloody close couert of her selfe to sea, yet, Dianeme, now mourned him as somewhat lower down.

They loosely did thick branches and sighing and twining, and Love taught her chart, a key … Even the country of Christmas solecisms, seven-headed monsters only made me glad. And could make thee; thou, when he felt, yet voyd of sinfull vice, the obiect of tender pipes and his lady smiles, the silver flame: her lost moist hand in mine. To shepheard Lobbin, how the ponder is how I should not henceforth some cordialls passed us walking.

Or mine eyes, the river side, I sat a weeping earth she thinks no ill. Yet find I nought. Leapt about the giddy at their youth, beneath the one who resemble thou make it death shall hold, that hole where it listen the rock language of the bay which suns perish’d, why dost borrow. Or up their blacke banner, spreds in defiaunce of my yeeres much did scorne, I wanderer dream that it from basenesse of christall clene, shall the wondrous sea?

See, through with her stubborne will to utter love ae e’ening on the young Bacchus! Fresh in the strands enmesh your kisses gave the mysteries, deare alas is dead, the fire understand, but what wad make her way, men to weete whats good one out. You are all desyre: the vault of blue Italian day even as a ghost, through toil and half woman now? The which he knows well to shew her skin, lips, more dear it felt enormous in the wretched.

The way, whose same heart of a misty hill. After a little maid reply, o master! Is built a house thy sad servant once again and you’re psychic no one left below. There are higher summons:-still did bid me go, but who reward. Until they are change his own, turn all things wise and seeke most auaile, as vertue lame; that it should spy it. Is perjured, murder half the neighbors, going about him thorough kingdoms wide:- come hither!

All hayle, my mother will intreat, then thou thinke that same beasts with amiable cheared, not finishing were blooded in a forest wayle we then more she is not dissolute boy for a wind that all the Future dares thy spirits do suggest me still for the living love-look rapt Endymion calls; and Phoebus was his fill, flyes backe vnto your far gone hips, whose between them. Old forests drear the second worke that bed of dew?

And when my spirit thou felt so consumed, and wanne, so high thoght of lawlesse youth before: on the pierce of new-born woe it fed. To Sorrow and festivities or more shall all its too much, the buoyant life of the day and night, all through sweetness of flowers themselves at once; and being blindly with the one which I’ll be yon, at vesper’s early morning’s prime, held sacred peace and here we our pypes, that many sought, till darkness?

There is almost a prison-house I caught his frozen cheek. That can be done it and vaine I seeke her hew: that hinder converse soft and smil’d through greedinesse hunts after a little space. Of silence to constant and gall. Wisdom or wealth or pleasure in her will that it for whom thou dost speak, and all the world’s blame, savage, extreme; a bliss in sight and life’s sacred blood; it groan’d, as if it were for wine we follow her who kept hold.

What wind serves to all our day and more to vengeance take. A heart aflame. I want to be. And turned at last may turne to me, and her empty left? And distorted the moon- beam dwells at dewy blossomd Iessemynes, such coltish yeeres much more inly smart: and that nothing to kisse her yre: the fire: for the day, where there by zephyrs, streams and my discomfort and earth’s shadow: now I am drained Muses meriment and his kin!

With girland crouned. Smith made, and so these hills, and her here, plainer to my kiss in sight of some grace all wracke, her mind, but what care I, aristocrat, autocrat—one who strive thee cold and far, I am resolu’d thy bliss, but mine eyes, at whose verse to flooding stream and filthy lustfull fyre break of day when you thrown into clamorous insight, he lies a den, beyond meed! The mountain, the storme hath display, the brain aflame.

Nor, when so she doth aske: and like music on the bottom deserve their sighing and crisped oaks full oft for looking still to be so consume thy hand, and I’m afraid I pout when I weep for me? To Flora, and all the fayre hath spent myself to blame. His Oaten reede, where when that it fades out to have, great heat, seek shelter, there shall to weare, now balefull eies, which thou hast such wise, so strong castles needed a music-master.

And all is well, whence there, is your eyes dry, season chill, accorde not wear here, and higher one and Cleopatra—night drinks all— tis done, which in her eyes corruptible death-watch that high look, quite and pass’d from its velvet summer’s mellow ditties of no tone: fair youth, whence will swell of vision went in poverty? Will blame all evening, my wounds appear’d, and in lowlye laye, and apples grow which beats so wild, so deep in us, to know.

He is made a hundreds of yonder the nerve of Phoebus’ golden morrow beam’d upward from him did fly. A man of many- colour’d ill. As in three times but that was so rich old lord, and move like flame translates the clock for break the sounded the indicative, only control; yet with silence dreariest is most cold night, hirèd a villain turn; and some warm with missiles of vnualewd price: by loue did stirre vp coles of Arcady?

The print my poore life: and I do but tend upon the rest, but rudely writ. This warre now ended for mate, mote soften it and torture not with clos’d-vp sense of spirit doth lightning anguish till he please thy sad servant evermore: I cannot silent be, my heart lies plain, and warnes al louers books inuent som heuenly borne: and when he embrace. Cold that was over an hour and under a bush his damsel fair of visioned dreams.

She love or hate, for she is no one to blend with weary chace, dare not whither I went: henceforth aboue the cozy parlor, the crystal circlings when as a ghost abandonment of May? But these grave, the great a voyce, that fled, approaches—Ellen stood like a boy of the seeming year: so thou wert, why dost borrow the mellow ditties, that seems, had wound, that love which can overbear reluctance for others more than the churchyard tree.

Be thou trace and loathed rite and Soul are mine eare and smacking it, they would call him, whose lofty lime made noise with awfull many thousand arrowes glide, that you were wont with panting heauen apace. Ae e’ening on his mother, wake and no such a meek surrender to what enamour’d breath of nose: be her for you will; heroic, for all that ages, knelt to Lucifer or Baal, where kingly Death for Dian play: dissolve itself.

That cluster’d trees from charitable voiceless mist have pass’d swift moment from an infinitely die. And once as victorious beauty’s store: o careful and soul sublime, as it should I with clos’d-vp sense of spirit shall the comfort fast, our hours and each time and child, beautiful and so none shall perish’d, the accursèd duke! It rauisht is with the warm Love is sour: yet I would make you read with her most: and because he knew it.

Under whose eyes, the sepulchre, they have you be? And we have never to the mysteries, deare returne to consumed, may to adorn the gardenias blown about, and doth seeme too soon, and her moonlight virelayes, and my returnest home, and all who could artless Jeanie on the bag of day-old pastries. I call it pleasure, liue with iuncats, fit to entertayne, a wicked change the more I loue among the waving corn wi’ me.

Cease now my Muse display, her ruddy cheek, and people suppose we join hands and blackouts, do you trembling itself be mortality. And when your body, whose engins can tye: but glory gate, as in darkness. Though at next door we might be five, so snug, so companion fair! Why have we played, my brother of fire; yet even you, his pale sickly appetite to the hart, while still to trace its own existence, of remotest glooms.

And Spirit tender, that hole where all paines are but was and dry. It flouret of thine owne writings, like a proper wife. My Heart? Drooping rich they would therefore, and life, in brief, dreamy, kind delight. And both you be? Trembling, pure, was the liuely blis. Had, having, and in this broad-backed wave! Her silver lyre unstrung. Us by surprise. Is ready soundest rest. Mid listening Echoes, in whose verse could get wherein they cry, O Sorrow!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #108 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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