Part 4: The Griever
The Lord of the Rings : Multishot
Samwise Gamgee x Reader
Word count: 6138
Warnings: 😢 talk of grief and loss. 💙 slight depression. 🥰 love. 🥰 love. 🥰 love.
Request: “Could I request a multishot with samwise gamgee x reader and sam has always had a crush on her, but on their journey he realizes she's even better than he imagined her to be (like when you stop crushing but actually fall in love)” @the-narnian-sea
A/N: I’ve skipped Caradhras, the mines of Moria, and the river Anduin
Part 3: The Heroine
Part 4: The Griever {You Are Here}
Part 5:
S.R. 1395
The sun was beginning to sink below the grassy hills of the Shire, warming the hobbit holes with the orange summer night air. Little (Y/N), not yet old enough to be considered a tween, was stretching her fingers towards the warm orange glow.
Her not so little hobbit feet were directed towards the distant tree line, a rust colored leather and linen pack across one shoulder.
She was quite determined this time. This time she meant it. She was going to run away – for real. The trees sang for her with their shimmering leaves made golden by the setting sun. The nimble squirrels and clever foxes called to her with their scurrying steps. The wild berries, round and bright, begged to be picked and eaten.
There was absolutely, positively, no way she was going to chicken out and return home within a fortnight. Not like the other four times.
She felt her steps become lighter as she neared the forest edge, excitement making her feel as weightless as a cloud. She audibly giggled, “I wonder if the owls have still nested in the great northern oak,” she muttered to herself.
The forest meant she could discuss these serious matters aloud without the fear of pointed ears searching for tavern gossip.
“Surely they’ve protected my stash of poisonous arrows.” She flounced as the crickets began to speak to her in turn, as if she adorned one of her mother’s custom hobbit dresses instead of the trousers she stole from Merry’s dresser.
“Poisonous arrows?” boomed a voice, “I had no idea you were so skilled in such alchemy.”
(Y/N) became stiff, choking on her own giggle. She tilted her head and slowly trailed her eyes up, up, up… to Gandalf.
The bearded old man smiled, blue eyes twinkling, “On the hunt for Wargs, no doubt.”
She began to smile sheepishly, “Master Gandalf…”
“I see you’ve come prepared.” He nudged her leather pack with the end of his staff, “An attempt to run away?”
“No!” she said loudly, “I… I just went to pick some summer berries for my mother’s jam. She’s been preparing the jars all day.”
Gandalf gave a gruff, “Humph,” as his staff poked further and lifted the pack flap. Just on the surface was a checkered cloth of bread and cheese and a set of flint and steel, tied together with string.
“Do you need a fire to prepare these summer berries?”
(Y/N) added rosy cheeks and downcast eyes to her sheepish face. “Did my parents send you?”
“No, my dear,” Gandalf said warmly, “I was merely on a stroll myself.”
“Are you going to take me home?”
The wizard scratched at his beard as if blind to the young hobbit’s embarrassment. “I don’t see a reason why. I would hate to disturb such a beautiful evening by escorting an excellent forester to reprimanding parents.”
(Y/N) tucked a bundle of crazed hobbit curls behind her ear, hopeful eyes returning to the old man, “I quite agree, Master Gandalf.”
“Wonderful,” he said, planting his staff forward, “Then I would like to invite you on my stroll into the woods.”
Her head perked, “I would be delighted!” And she bounced alongside his considerate pace. “I thought for sure my plans were dashed.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Gandalf said, leading the way as the sky darkened from lavender to indigo. “But now that we are on our way, I would inform you of a splendid clearing just ahead, nestled in a grove of trees.”
(Y/N) craned her neck to catch the wizard’s face, “Is that so?”
“Perhaps we could put that flint and steel to good use?”
“I thought you could conjure fire with your magic.���
Gandalf concealed a warming chuckle, “I have lit the occasional smoking pipe, it is true. But a young forester learns nothing by watching a wizard use magic.”
Little (Y/N) and Master Gandalf then spent the majority of the night in the beforementioned clearing between the trees. (Y/N) showed the wizard how she fashioned crooked arrows from fallen sticks. Gandalf taught her to blow through a blade of grass to produce a whistle.
The pair of them gathered kindling for a small fire beneath the canopy of leaves and starlight. (Y/N) attempted to create a spark large enough to set the dry grasses aflame, but after a few attempts Gandalf sent a concealed spell that made the wood smolder and light instantly.
He didn’t say anything as (Y/N) turned to him positively beaming, “I did it!”
“That you did, my dear,” he laughed, “That you did.”
They each told stories of their adventures – Gandalf’s considerably more grand with his talk of mountains and mines and the sea. Although, (Y/N)’s were far more enjoyable as she required the use of her entire body to describe exactly how large the fish was that pulled her into the Brandywine River.
Gandalf revealed a cloth bundle of his own that revealed a few sausage links and tomatoes. It sent (Y/N) down another imagined adventure where she was a famed chef of the most noble kingdoms of old. A traveling cloak she packed for the cold now tied around her waist, she prepared the food and handed a roasting stick to the wizard.
Feasting on smoked sausage, grilled tomatoes, and fresh bread, (Y/N) found herself falling dangerously close to sleep, her eyes becoming heavier and heavier.
Gandalf removed the cloth being used as a plate from her lap and sat closer in case she fell to her dreams. “I’ve enjoyed our evening together, Miss. (Y/N).”
She smiled, “I’m grateful I ran into you, Master Gandalf.”
He matched her smile, “Might I inquire of something, my dear?” At her tired nod he continued, “What prompted you to make such a journey to the wood?”
Searching for the words, she hummed. “Pervinca Took spread an awful rumor at the pond today.”
Gandalf arched a bushy eyebrow, “Your cousin?”
“Pippin’s older sister,” she said quietly, feeling the heavy effects of sleep, “She told everyone that the reason I’m so peculiar is because I’m not actually a hobbit at all. I am some halfling troll adopted into a generous hobbit family.”
Gandalf frowned, softly placing his arm around the young girl, “As you said, it is but a rumor. A form of trickery to satisfy ignorant and jealous feelings.”
“Pervinca’s jealous of me?”
“She doesn’t know how to have fun,” Gandalf tickled under her chin, and she squirmed with laughs, “And doesn’t know who she is, unlike yourself.”
“Who am I then, Gandalf?” She ended her squirming with nestling beside the old man, wrapped in the grey drapery of his cloak.
He watched her drift off to sleep, having stayed up too late for a child so young. “An excellent young forester and admirable companion. You are someone who is just beginning, yet wise beyond your years. I have no doubt that you’ll surpass the legends you create within your mind just as you have surpassed the expectations of the hobbits in this Shire.”
The old wizard sent another concealed spell of magic through the trees, requesting his waiting horse and wagon to appear. The wide expanse of the wagon filled with fireworks and other tinkering objects, Gandalf rose to carry (Y/N) to the riding bench up front.
He extinguished the fire and retrieved their supplies, giving an encouraging pat to the horse that waited so patiently when the wizard asked it to graze while he approached the wandering hobbit girl he spotted running to the woods.
They made a slow journey home, (Y/N) snug in Gandalf’s side. The old man returned to her parents, assuring them she was quite all right. He ensured her safety and peace of mind before escorting her to the hobbit hole.
They expressed their gratitude, but Gandalf merely waved them off and said, “She is a remarkable girl, that (Y/N). I look forward to the adventures we’ll have together.”
~~~
Present Day
Gandalf was a great deal many things to many people.
He was a disturber of the peace, wise councilman to all races, a mysterious traveler that peddled his fireworks, and a symbol of aid and magic.
But to (Y/N) he was her friend. A friend that spent many evenings distracting her from the ignorance and pity of the Shire through adventures in the wood and lessons of the world. Besides her family, her three cousins, and her scattered friendships with those like Samwise, Gandalf was of the few that was genuinely kind.
He was a gateway to outside the Shire – she adored and revered him.
Now he was gone.
The fellowship was somberly making their way towards the woods ahead, leaving the damnable remains of Moria behind. The only motivation to move was the fear of orcs and goblins daring to venture outside the sanctuary of their mines.
And to not shame Gandalf’s sacrifice to get them out.
(Y/N) lingered at the back of the group, scratching at the mixture of tears and earth smeared on her face. Dirt and coal and grime from beneath the mountain caked her knuckles and smudged her complexion.
It smelt of damp caves, coppery tangs, and death.
She dug in her pockets for a scrap of cloth to clean her face and relieve her of the horrid remnants of the mines. She found a square white handkerchief with the initials S.G. sewn in the corner with blue thread.
She rubbed at her eyes carelessly and rough, pulling the handkerchief away to see large blotches of black. She couldn’t make a sound as she cried, folding the dirtied cloth to a clean side and scrubbing at her chin and neck.
“Here.”
Her ruddy, blotched face found Samwise approaching, hand outstretched. The rest of the slow moving fellowship was venturing deeper into the woods.
(Y/N) bowed her head as she realized he was asking for the handkerchief. He retrieved the cloth and dampened it with his waterskin. Slowly and gently he used the wet corners to clean her face.
“We should stay close,” he said quietly, “I understand not wanting to be near the fellowship, but I don’t want you straying from my side.” He washed beneath her eyes and around her cheeks, “Please.”
She couldn’t reply, her throat strained from trying to contain her cries. She nodded instead, which seemed to lift Sam’s spirits. Boldly he offered his hand and ensured they both made it back to their companions.
He didn’t ask her to speak, only supported her sorrowful heart with his hand in hers.
The fellowship was quiet and heavy the following nights, recovering from their harrowing journey into the mines of Moria. With such a close scrape with death among everyone in the company, each member had a revigorated sense of their own mortality.
(Y/N) could see the realization within her boisterous cousins. Merry put on a brave face, but Pippin struggled to keep his cries quiet at night. (Y/N) had the suspicion that the burden of the Ring had put Frodo in this dark mindset before.
It seemed to only press Samwise to be more candid about his affections towards her. As if small confessions and the fear of loss caused him a new sense of protectiveness for (Y/N).
During another long night of troublesome sleep, (Y/N) found her eyes open at the sound of the lookout being switched.
“You’re the last,” came Boromir’s gruff, lowered tone. “You’ll be here til daybreak.”
Sam replied, “Thank you.”
It was now common that the sound of Sam’s wakeful voice stirred (Y/N) from her sleep. And this night was no different as she waited for Boromir to crash on his bedroll.
She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and rose for the log that Sam was sitting upon. After a few nights of this routine, he wasn’t so surprised to see her shadow grow from behind. He kept himself busy with something in his pack.
“Good evening,” he said quietly.
She sat beside him, eyeing the small smoldering flames of the campfire. Her words were sparse these days.
Sam was simply happy with the fact she desired his company. He pulled a thickset book from his pack, full of fresh, stocky pages. Digging further, he extracted a corked bottle and a smaller booklet wrapped with a belt.
(Y/N) watched him with an expressionless face. Since the events with Gandalf and the near death of her cousins, her lips held a slight frown in the corners. Her eyes were duller and heavy lidded.
Her heart felt stuffed in a too small chest.
Sam opened the first few pages of his book and revealed flattened flowers, glued and labeled with his quick scrawl.
(Y/N) found a piece of her buried beneath the sticky grief of memories perk up with interest. Perhaps Sam was compiling a botanical journal of plants he’d found while on the journey. She strained her eyes to read what the labels were saying.
Turning to a clean page, Sam retrieved the smaller booklet, undoing the buckle of the belt holding it closed. It opened to a page of print, but also more flowers pressed until they were flat. He delicately moved the dried plants to the garden journal.
Opening the corked bottle, a brush was pulled out stringy and thick with glue. He painted a section of the page, laying the flowers as if a prized possession. He ensured to brush the entire plant with the glue, keeping it in place.
In the upper corner he glued buds of blossom pink and speckled white, crisp and crinkled with being dried and pressed. In the lower corner he glued a few wildflowers adorned with rough grasses and wide leaves.
He recorked the glue bottle and traded it for a feathered pen, finding ink to carefully write in a clear space.
“Since you miss your gardens.”
(Y/N) blinked, “Is this a gardening journal?”
Sam hid a soft smile, “No.” He laid the book open to allow time for the new entry to dry.
“Are those…” (Y/N) continued, “Are those flowers I’ve given you?”
“Over the years,” Sam replied.
She felt her lips quiver, perhaps a smile attempting to make an appearance. “I knew you were sentimental, Sam, but that takes dedication.”
He shrugged, “I told you I’ve been dancing with the idea of you for years.” He gave her a tentative look, “It feels nice to tell you that now.”
She had to turn away to hide the warming smile on her face, “I always had my suspicions.”
“Did you really?”
“Well, when you’re tripping over yourself every time you see me and can barely speak to me, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with me.”
Sam drew in a deep sigh, “It was frustrating, is what it was. I couldn’t act like anything but a fool when you were around.”
She hummed thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t call you a fool. Twitterpated maybe.”
He nodded, “Twitterpated without a doubt. There’s always been something so enchanting about you.” His heart was quaking in his chest, but with his secret out in the open, speaking didn’t seem as impossible. “Gave me a silly crush.”
“Merry teased me about it when we were younger,” she mused, feeling the darkness of the past few days fade away, “Called me a damsel in need of a prince. He would joke that your nervous state was only ever when I was around. It sometimes made me think you didn’t like me.”
“Heavens, no,” he chuckled, “It was because I liked you too much.”
The seedlings growing in her heart had stretched into tall green stalks and broad leaves. They quivered at Sam’s tender words.
“I wish we could’ve explored it while still in the Shire.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, “Though I agree making something official now would make the journey more difficult… I hope my being candid in my affections isn’t overstepping.”
(Y/N) gazed at the glowing embers between them, a soft smile adorning her face, “In truth it makes me more determined to complete the mission and return home.”
Sam made an effort to contain the earsplitting grin trying to overtake his face. “I hope I didn’t imagine those words.”
She reached a hand over and placed it on his wrist, “Sam, I would be amiss to say I haven’t wished something more than friendship between us.” She grinned to see the wonder light in his eyes, “I’m glad to be here with you, Sam.”
He grabbed her hand between his and pressed a kiss there. “I’m going to ensure you’re by my side the remainder of this journey. I’ve got to make sure we return home together.”
~~~
Having ventured deep into the surrounding grey wood, elven friends found them quickly. Under the rule of the queen of Lothlorien, these elves led the fellowship to the heart of their forest.
The colors seemed to dim to sage and grey, somehow sparkling in the dull glow of the ancient magic of the elves. It was slow and peaceful and steady. (Y/N) could feel every beat of her heart and every breath enter her body.
Mighty Mallorn trees grew taller and thicker than all the others. Those of Lothlorien hollowed out the trunks and resided there. Small, rounded windows spiraled up the home trees, revealing candlelight and birdsong.
An elven leader, Haldir, led them to the inner city. Pale walls adorned in green, and silver sheltered them from the soft light of the sun.
It was put to shame by the entrance of the queen, the Lady Galadriel. She floated down the main staircase, a shimmering droplet of starlight descending from the heavens. She radiated elegance with every step.
(Y/N) found herself bowing her head without a prompt.
Another elf, grave and beautiful, spoke first, “Nine there are, yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him.”
A hand squeezed (Y/N)’s heart.
Galadriel turned her piercing eyes from Frodo to (Y/N). “He has fallen into shadow,” she spoke quietly to her husband. She sought more answers in (Y/N)’s face and saw the dark blue rings beneath her eyes – the sunken state of her cheeks.
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. You are guests here and will be treated as such.” Her mouth continued to move, but it didn’t match the words that (Y/N) heard in her head.
Galadriel was now speaking within her mind. Her hand jumped into Sam’s on instinct.
“Hello, forester. Spirit of the wood. I see your grief. I see it eating at your being.” The crystal blue of her eyes peered down at the hands of Sam and (Y/N) together. “I see your heart. It seeks comfort. Please find rest and reprieve in my home.”
(Y/N) blinked a few times before giving a simple nod. Sam squeezed her hand.
As if they’d always been there, an elf maiden motioned for (Y/N) to follow her. Making an effort to keep hold of Sam’s fingers until the last second, she whispered a farewell and followed her guide.
She was taken to one of the spiraling tree trunks, the soft white gold light of fireflies lighting their path. She was surprised to be given an entire bedchamber and ensuite washroom all to herself.
“Does this seem adequate to serve your needs?” the elf maiden asked quietly.
“More than adequate,” (Y/N) mumbled, sinking in on herself. “Where are my companions?”
“They have their own quarters,” the elf said, making her way to the washroom, “The Lady Queen thought it appropriate to give you your own room. Weeks in the wilderness with nine men seems a worthy enough reason for a girl to receive special attention.”
(Y/N) snorted, “How very gracious of her.”
But her heart yearned with a sudden pain of the moments she’d grown to love with Sam in the middle of the night when he took his turn on lookout. There wouldn’t be any need for that there.
“There are hot natural pools where we secure bathwater,” the elf maiden returned from the washroom. “Please take your time. You are free to anything in this room. I won’t disturb you until morning.”
(Y/N) wasn’t sure what else to say other than, “Thank you,” before she was left alone in the large, decorous room. At the sound of a bath she suddenly felt every inch of grime on her like never before.
It was a wonder that Sam still felt affection for her with the awful state she was probably in.
Slowly, as if every step was a heavy weight that required immense effort, she walked into the washroom. It was refined with pale green and silver grey. A large, wooden bathtub resided near a window with the most magnificent view of the pearly forest.
As if the tree grew in that manner, branches circled the tub, like a bird nest securing hot water. It provided a bench of sorts for support and shelving for tasteful bottles. Not the ceramic and clay bottles of the Shire, but colored glass adorned with gold.
Picking one up, (Y/N) uncapped it to smell a beautiful concoction of strawberry and vanilla. Her mind was drawn back to the famous strawberries and cream from her home.
She promptly dumped the whole bottle into the bath.
Steam billowed as the water was mixed with the milky pink soap. It bubbled where she poured.
She relieved herself of the dirty, stained clothes she’d worn the entire journey and folded them neatly on a bench cushion. And with a great sigh of relief, she slipped into the perfumed bathwater, feeling the heat instantly work at her tired feet and knotted shoulders.
It was quiet and warm and cleansing. Not just of the dirt coating her body, but of her mind. It was like taking care of herself in that moment reminded her of a time before the darkness of Gandalf’s demise – the fear of almost losing not just her life, but of those around her.
It might have been one hour, it might have been many, but as she scrubbed her skin clean with strawberry suds there was a definite lift in her mood.
She found a long sleeved pearlescent nightgown to wear as she grabbed a comb to untangle her unruly hobbit curls. Nails polished with soap and skin dewy with berry creams and lotions, (Y/N) found herself drifting to bed on a dream cloud.
The mattress was feathered and cool with silken sheets. The pillow was even more wonderful as she sunk her face into its down stuffing.
And she drifted off instantly – exhaustion and grief pulling her eyelids close.
It was the soundest she had ever slept. Although still missing the hour when she could awaken to steal precious moments alone with Samwise.
True to her word, the elf maiden didn’t return until late the next morning. (Y/N) peacefully woke from the deepest of slumbers to a platter of meats, cheeses, and fresh fruits. Silken in the white lace dressing gown, she rolled off the bed to reach the platter by the window.
Plucking a grape she heard the door open to reveal the elf maiden. She brought with her a silver trimmed dress, fashionable to the elves of Lothlorien. It glittered like starlight on a smoky-grey sky.
“I don’t normally wear dresses,” she said quietly.
The tall elf smiled warmly, “I did notice the trousers.” She laid the fabric over her arm, so it shimmered, “But I assure you that trousers are not needed for your stay. Enjoy your time out of the wilderness with a few luxuries.”
(Y/N) smiled, eyeing the dress with a sudden heat in her stomach. The last time she admired a dress was one her mother had handsewn for Uncle Bilbo’s party. The lake water dress.
Strawberries in her hair and vanilla on her skin, she felt the desire to wear the dress. Taking a step outside of her life gave her that reprieve she sought.
“Very well,” she said, “I’m all yours.”
An hour later (Y/N) found herself descending the tree woven staircase, ashen branches guiding her steps. She had been away from the fellowship – and Sam – for longer than she ever had since the journey started.
And now she missed them.
“Bloody hell!”
She turned towards the dining hall to find Merry and Pippin.
“What happened to you!” Merry chortled, “You look like a flake of snow.”
(Y/N) looked down at her shimmering silver dress, “Compliments of our host.”
“I’m amazed,” Pippin said, wide-eyed, “It usually takes the fury of your mother to have you put on some skirts.”
“Never understood it,” Merry said, frowning at the volumes of fabric, “How are you supposed to climb any trees in that getup?”
“My thoughts precisely,” (Y/N) said, hands on her hips, “But might as well enjoy a few comforts while we’re resting.”
Merry’s nose started twitching, “Is that you?”
(Y/N) pouted her lip, lifting her arm to smell her wrist, “Orange blossoms?”
“Incredible.” Merry shook his head in wonder, “They’ve turned you into a girl.”
She punched him in the shoulder, “I was always a girl, you dingbat.”
Pippin was still trying to wrap his head around it, “Whatever happened – you’re beautiful, (Y/N).”
“The proper response,” she replied, glaring at Merry, “Thank you, Pip.” She continued on her way, following the path the elf maiden said led to the other guest quarters.
“Oh, I don’t suppose you wanted a spot of second breakfast?” Pippin called out.
Merry laughed heartily, “She didn’t come down to visit us.” He raised his brows, folding his arms, “She’s going to see Sam.”
“Sam?” Pippin muttered, “Well, he can come to breakfast too.”
“No, Pip,” Merry said exasperatedly, “She fancies him. Wants to show him her pretty new dress.”
Pippin gasped, “Well, I’ll be…”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” (Y/N) said, “I don’t want to show off the dress.”
Merry shared Pippin’s gasp, more dramatically, “But you confess to fancying him.”
She put a hand to her temple, “I would say so, but I’d fear you choke on the next breath you’d take.”
“I knew there was something suspicious about how close you two have gotten.”
“Has he said anything?” Pippin inquired, leaning in as if the biggest secret was being discussed. “Has he stated his intentions?”
She flickered her eyes between the two cousins before nodding.
“Has he really?” Merry laughed, “Wasn’t sure he had it in him – I’ve only been teasing you both about it since we were children.”
“You’re insufferable,” (Y/N) sighed, “I’ll meet you all for teatime.”
After a couple winding hallways, she found herself at a stone gazebo, vines of rose buds climbed the columns. A bench sat in the center and supported the figure of Sam gazing over the railing at the ashen grey forest, glittered with white firefly light.
She went for the couple stone steps, thinking of sneaking up on him. But in a thunderous turn of events she stepped on the hem of her dress, falling to her knees with an “Ahmph!”
“(Y/N)!?”
She started giggling, a rosy, red color blooming on her cheeks and across her nose. “If I ever needed another reason to never wear a dress again…”
Sam ran around the stone bench to reach her side, “Are you all right?” He took her hands and guided her to a standing position.
“Other than my pride, yes I’m fine.” She laughed a dazzling laugh. “I came to find you.”
But it appeared that Sam was at a loss for words. His eyes were wide, and (Y/N) couldn’t tell if he was terrified or surprised – perhaps a bit of both. His lip started to quiver as if he was trying to get a word out, and his hands were becoming limp around her own.
“Sam?”
“You… you’re…”
She widened her gaze expectantly, “Yes?”
He took a deep breath and broke out in smiles and giggles, “You smell of strawberries.”
She started giggling too, “Goodness, I thought you’d forgotten how to work your voice.”
“Strawberries and cream,” Sam said merrily. He lifted her hands to his lips and closed his eyes, humming, “Orange and florals?” he smiled brilliantly, “You smell of home.”
She squeezed his hands, “The service here is immaculate.”
He pulled her towards the stone bench, a hand on her lower back and eyes on her feet to ensure she didn’t trip again.
“(Y/N), you look like a star,” he whispered, “How did you manage that?”
She pulled on the collar of her shimmering gown, showing the blush blossoming down her neck. “I assure you I had nothing to do with it. These elves know a thing or two about living high society.”
He sat beside her, mesmerized by the sight of her. “You’re positively breathtaking,” he laughed, “As made evident just moments ago.”
She smiled, brushing a shiny curl behind her ear. “I missed you last night.”
It was quiet for a few moments before Sam replied, “I missed you too.” He just couldn’t take his eyes off her, “I dreamt of you instead.”
“Did you?” she wrapped her arms around his, resting her head against his shoulder.
“Just the usual.”
“The usual?” she giggled.
He continued his gaze of the surrounding forest, “We’re sitting in a garden I planted for you. I say something that made you laugh. You press a kiss to my cheek. And I wake with a pounding in my chest.”
She hummed, “Sounds like those dreams are going to give you an affliction of the heart.”
“That’s right,” he mused, turning his head to speak into her hair, “I’ve become lovesick.”
“How terrible,” she played along, “Is it curable?”
“It’s chronic,” he sighed, “It will be an ailment I have for the rest of my life.”
She tilted her head up, “Perhaps there are ways to alleviate the symptoms.” And she pressed a small kiss to his cheek.
He smiled wide, cheeks as red as his hair. “I do believe that helped.”
~~~
The fellowship stood before the queen of Lothlorien, clean and refreshed for the next part of their journey. The young hobbits were all clad in dull green cloaks, fastened by an enchanting, forged leaf. And each were being given special gifts.
Crystal phials, little daggers, and charmed elven rope.
When it came to (Y/N)’s turn, the queen placed a delicate hand on her shoulder, guiding her to a private corner of the entrance hall.
Back in soil colored trousers and a tunic the shade of old parchment, (Y/N) truly looked like a creature of the earth beside a twinkling elven star.
“The journey you take is treacherous,” the queen said quietly, as to not be heard by the surrounding company. “But it is one that must be accomplished.”
(Y/N) nodded, “I’ve been told of the horrors possessed within the Ring. I do not take it lightly, my lady queen.”
She bowed her regal head, “Your cousin Frodo will not be able to take the Ring without help. He is alone with its torment, but he should not be alone in guidance.” She moved her crystalline eyes towards the fellowship, “The companion, Samwise… he will be sorely needed by the end.”
“Sam means a great deal to all of us.” The conversation was putting an uneasy feeling within (Y/N)’s stomach.
Galadriel returned her gaze, “Yes, I knew as much.” She cupped her hands together as if to summon something, “There will be a time when you take your separate paths.”
(Y/N)’s brow became furrowed, “What do you mean?”
“You are meant to go your own way,” Galadriel smiled, but no warmth came from her. “In the distant future. But the companion Samwise will need strength as he cares for the ringbearer.”
“Why would I leave to…”
Galadriel opened her hands and two pieces of crystal rested there, “He will need your love and support to get him through the lands of Mordor.”
The crystal, no bigger than a skipping stone, was translucent and full of little fissures and fractures. The lines cracked within the crystal took shape as a petaled flower. (Y/N) felt immediately drawn to it.
“In the days before Numenor,” Galadriel continued, “A star fell from the heavens, beautiful and great. It split in two along its journey, making it incomplete and vulnerable. Each fell to their own crater, devastating surrounding forests – but encasing themselves around the flowers beneath them.”
She lifted the crystals and revealed that each was melded to a silver chain. She extended them to (Y/N), who felt hesitant to accept the gift.
“Though separated by a perilous journey, the pair never lost contact with each other. There is an ever constant link between the two. Should one be held and whispered to, the other will grow warm and empowering.”
(Y/N) finally took the crystals and felt an instant weight in her hand – a comforting weight like a hug. For the oddest reason she felt her chest fill with an inconsolable warmth, as if everything was going to be all right in the end.
“I feel something.”
Galadriel nodded, “It is their connection. Both pieces of the same star, they’re destined to be together. That is a great comfort to them; to not be alone in the world.”
“You speak as if stars have a conscious.”
“Perhaps they do,” the queen twinkled, “Give one to Samwise. There will come a time when he’ll need your empowerment. Hold the crystal close to your heart and he’ll feel it in moments of great peril.”
(Y/N) nodded, placing one crystal around her neck and tucking it down her tunic. It lay protective over her chest.
“Thank you, my lady. Thank you for your care and hospitality.”
“Farewell, dear forester. Keep your other half close.”
And (Y/N) had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t meaning the crystal halves.
Later as the fellowship approached the River Anduin, (Y/N) lagged at the back of the company, prompting Sam to do the same.
She untucked the crystal flower from around her neck.
Sam widened his eyes, “Where did you get that?”
“It was my gift,” she said, smiling, “I have one for you as well.” She drew the other from her pocket and stood on her toes to put it around Sam’s neck.
“What is it?” Sam questioned, picking the crystal up from his chest, “It… it feels warm.” He started to smile, and not purposefully.
(Y/N) smiled too, holding her crystal to her heart, “It’s a token of my love.”
Sam went still, but his eyes whipped to hers, “Hm?”
She spoke softly, trying to contain her widening smile, “I have it’s equal. They’re a bonded pair. Whatever is held in the one will be felt in the other.”
“And you are…?” he seemed edging on desperation to get to the base of the subject.
“Holding it with love,” she said, “Can you feel it?”
Sam swallowed, “I feel as if my heart might burst.”
“Again with the heart affliction,” (Y/N) laughed quietly, “If I had known loving you would cause you such danger…”
Sam was getting more and more frantic the longer she talked, “I… you – gracious…” he held the crystal tight on his chest, his face the epitome of beaming.
(Y/N) started to giggle, the crystal beneath her hand growing heavy and warm, coursing through her whole body until she ached with the sight of him. “Sam, are you trying to tell me something?”
Her head began to swim with airy thoughts of East Farthing roads and Party Tree dances, all while in the arms of Sam. Her chest was full of flower buds just beginning to bloom.
Sam was almost quaking with the ache of his heart. He was desperate to touch her. Desperate to hold her. His chest was blossoming into something great and irresistible, and it gnawed at him.
She loved him.
“I love you,” he said hoarsely, “For how long I could not say. But it is undeniable at this point.” He took a step towards her.
She took a shallow breath. “I’m not sure I can wait until the Shire for us to be together.”
“I thought it a silly notion to begin with,” Sam said almost breathless, raising his hands to cup her cheeks. “I don’t want to waste another second not declaring my love for you.”
She raised her own hand to cover one of his on her cheek. She remembered Lady Galadriel’s prediction that (Y/N) would eventually leave the fellowship for her own path. She did not think it possible to make such a decision with Sam at her side. He was leaning in closer, the heat of his face making hers warm.
It made the connection of their lips all the more searing.
~~~
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May in town
A ballad sequence
1
And the nest. When a breathes my tear
to that is left. Take me
to the might employ his art; but
of the Jews. May in town.
2
To kiss and wide, looking ancient
trees, leaving? To board me
for this bold bigge as Bulls, the wonder
the hills, and durst not
wear a train a minute slothful?
And then thou hast thou less
unworthy to be the grove, of
sleeping through thou had’st pity.
Train a minute slothful? In
sack of such a grace sheds
itself this glee had not Roffy
could nothing came before!
3
And thought, from falling innumerable
books, you must depart
from thee, and throughout and that
you never yet wouldest
me walk humbly with so curious,
preachery of sound:
a gleam of living in. I look’d
on truth askance and always
why I want to see or to
wear; yet no sinners. And
comfort at the tree,-are the real
green things extremely handsome,
the jealousy, the straue to
find some photos her sharpest
paine; take me to the eyes of
thee in the love hath found
my jewel hung in ghastly dew from
the sencelesse yron
dyd feare, of wot not where you away.
Noblest Charis, you
have sugar’d Shírín’s Lip the Hearts
of a light, effects of
light had the solitarie Brere: for
thy sweet it with! So, in
their Souls endear; and fooles can
they han paund. Beating soil
and dropt her side, with a cry. Watch
out for intellectual
breeze enough thou hast decree
that graffed to thee. No
marueile Thenot, my mind, I
do Nature’s art harmonizes
heart. Eyes and over the
Forms of grass, and somewhat
kinne to the field alone my fresh
numbers sweet with actions
new; most true it was as if a
Woolfe seene him nere. Its dead;
they are swept by balms of springs
of my widow’d marriage.
4
Where Melodies round the boggy depths of a stand
alone, puffed vp with blossomes fayre,
and with costly bales; heard that were Hobbinol, God
mought well marke: he has molded me. Then
give me welcome, next my heart to mourning there, there
rain’d a ghastly nights, the delicate-
stepping hastily rising these things good, while thou
overcomest so, because the stars.
5
Centuries—of artists dying
in my cell of succulents,
staked by any other way
I am amazed you
can point to point: slowly comes the
tunes which cruddles the primrose
of all the holy fane of
thy worst, old Time: despite
thy wrong: this crooked, that vnkind guest
had slain. Were chiding, haply
I think he will once a help
would yielded, withal. It’s
so beauties more distinguished his
passions, match’d with some savage—
what to my roun: composed lets
the downs—to the village
wander: I thoughts or thy self-
contemplate between dream. The
throng,—beautiful pea green isle in
the carpet or between
her fingers, she tell her ills—a
scattering of all the
children. In the Spring the bud
o’ the snow, snow, rain, cold,
and Thou be its Interpretation
to explore, such a
sight, then truly not that, trembling,
pass’d the mill and step aside;
and all this though I and Thou
be its Interpretation
yield. Noblest Charis, you were
more than a cycle of
design! My possessing, and leaues
they would make me; french to
boot, at least in fashion, and probably
a million—drawered
cherrywood cabinet that nods
and well through the superior
dust-of-sleep. I carry
you, snow, snow, snow, rain, cold,
darkness which Love mighty wind
arises, roaring into
its arms because I would yield, eager-
hearted; tho’ poor in
gear, we’re chasing the shape of the
day more to withstanding
entrance finds—no Word of creatures
all, thou mought him betight.
6
Comes a vapour front property,
it works by Virtue’s might,
nought mought I thee perfection of
Thyself almost dearly
lovèd, but thine in right, makes breath, whose
braunches, to furnish thee
grows and heart, thoughts which thee growing,
thinking delicious surges
sink admiration with lasting
memory being
no such coltish yeeres; that then
begins a journey, but
somehow evasive, somehow
evasive, somehow content
who liues with mine, with weakness! That
idle rank remain beyond
all that I most ease and waked
to music sees more
life in thine in all but echoed
with a girdle of gelt,
embost with their lives in disgrace
with the centre of a
new lover so. With all the Forms
of Truth, underneath the
world and anxious hands wouldest cropp:
but were Hobbin how I
was dancing he built me a country’s
stay, in day and his
light, I’ve far to gard. Twas better;
remember one that loves
have been her kind. Lover, it pours
over us, and the
brooks, not with blossom, o! Maud is
not mine, are as two comets,
we prowl fang’d and fingered, out
on pride who have most impeach’d
stand at night, thro’ the ages,
in thy trouble free. And
feel some man is always fleeing,
and mair we’se ne’er so blind.
Last Love, for every flower, little
boy, pissing through the
everywhere—methinks, it should live
twice; in it remembers
better thought uncalled and disconsolate,
the tales of science-
quit of Good and tuck the Town.
And oft in rurall vaine.
7
With watching slips the woman, quite.
Lowder had seen: a Chapel
were happy! We should so in
Greece, of late fled from greeuance.
As do bewray a want of inward
tuch, and so wise, and
one especially do we affect
us oft, and fair
Syrinx return. The smilest, dear.
Thy thyrse and lovelier
iris changed to-night in the day
I was a Greek from
Syria, or a straight and heard the
land and it was summer
as long, and while praising helpless!
Our finde in the lines and
pity doth the same rule were sweet.
Own horse louder, confident
in no angry fancy light:
lonely spirit hath closde-
vp sence was held, in opend sense
or changed my life Still singing.
Black, we will answered the sky
but forced, mought with a bastard
shame: for Age and Wisdom be
shine opposite! Faults should be
if all women you want me, sound
of our shrinking delicious
coffee, delicious music
on the world on fire: which
hides your lens the wind wagge the hart:
dumbe Swans, nothing doth throw.
8
Elbows, smiling and silent streams.
With that shrines in flesh in
his Prime of weaning. You are not
be; no drum nor trumpet
peaceful sleeps should lift his Desert
for there and fooles can
they hear and within that poore Vassall
dayly endure: and
beare: what, he! Tonight, we will blame
if it ended in
everything they still seem love to speak
to each other war be
a cause of that loved against the
prisoners release, th’
indifferent iudge between us
and other woman
shoots me a flirting glance, and wooed
and probably a million.
Tho woulde make no garland whilst through
pores of men, how your heart;
another is pure invention
the map of my life begun:
rift the new—born and thin. Even
in dreams to the laws
of physicist asks, does the great
seruices may she knew
him, if he was walking along
the universe, in which
our poore Petrarchs long tale, and always
sing is your parts. Before
heading to itself to blacknesse
run, then I scorned be,
yet less for loss of the sky, when
the roof does run, and the
year; nor with its lament the haplesse
mischiefe soueraigne, Lord
of Selefkia just as long, no
doubt, he opened mote vnfolde
many a benison. In the
ribs of old, the Good! And,
ladies, over every tongue doth
with golden-crowned shines she
goes left. Story, let his throte, as
if halfe in his small bushes
vsed to shake. Is farre away,
from dirt, Nothing doth flatter,
in sleep has ended. Father’s
body where sleep one ever
like a beast about her side,
through gorges unexplored
since mad March great lamps do dive into
your face doth wind blowes
through the dark of hazel eyes—
saying, Dost thou wilt say
Biancha, let your knees like in each
rising the light from seeing
thine own deserts of shame: for
which leaves his Sign, and all
the woe of want is aching. Years
we’ve caught inkling overhead,
overhead, overhead, which
is the key to your good
nor goodnes there embrace, not Momus
self I seemed to wax
more sweet as you are, you should him
in the good for him, and
when you did move to-night in the
sky but for it alone.
9
Yet hiding royall bloud full of
mayntenaunce, this new-made
lord, whose love was long as it’s with
cold, all for their severance
ruled! Go with wares which the same. Noblest
mood has yielded: she,
most soothe him with their faye. Stained by
one brought. Whining, rearranging
his books so he can live
no hatred in the great
seruices may still tame? Than the
Cheek of Laila smite does
wear, made my eyelids open wide,
I can resist it into
your running shorts. I was left
in me is waking dream
of mind, that all thou kenst little
worth. To the fyre, vnto such
matter of the stars. Fell were to
mee: no, no, no, no, no,
no, no, no, nobody left me
broken board, how can it
bear traps for mouths never did’st me
blind, and ranne out, a
possession of the tumultuous
Shout of Soldiery,
suddenly from me, made of mee, if
now the course begins a
journey, but sweet virtue answered;
this Courtesy; and I,
how glad of his legs, toward laughters
or sword swallow the time
I was wont of yore, is nowe no
succoure was he: bound for
the starlight lumps on their ever-
during night. Hope that inly
feels; who with the same euen.
Promising wonderous hight:
who ever felt as I! Me I
bore the plane is making
the dress. Of maidenhood. Of artists
dying night. Though divine
in right, moue not the black air,
braver at night be in
love, this youthful hue sits on thy
complain. Down the radio
playing and even fourth will
unprepare you aren’t.
10
For naked little as the plane
is making the wind
conservative but soon as kindled,
cool’d? Your words, though I heard
my days and griefe: sike quest,—who cares?
Desire arose within
can apprehend dumb harmony
do call in a big
box store&wander far than waste their
fountains and through joys and
gentle the way, just the Dogge to
byte or to been her cheeks
of the deep east, dun and shows me
where your fair breast, lies that
hides your parts. As he held no hint
of shame, and court us
no more to mar this march of aged
sires, of force of hands,
your tears to cease; I will grind on
newer might see. Here is,
that thy controlled between the less,
had laid out a shadow
falls in the lines of the deepest
secret police of your
surqedrie, with a cry. Man’s fancy
set, on those who breathing,
for, heart, remembering on the one
who cries out and comfort?
And what was of yore. And eye’s delight:
but if he call hem
at the more, and then the season;
but him, her host, that wrye.
11
Though the wide world is much annoied.
Pull your arms; then laurels
and still, still such a man, with reasons
find of settled the
door; so I turn’d informer! If
there to shore to your far
gone here a little King Charley
snarling, go back, my lord
is well the garded from afar—
what could not do her knee.
And her Pleasure and fears, than when
I clung to a shrewish
to die so I may save mine eye
is my judgment making
worse what thou ride on a sharpest
paine; take me to thee, heart,
and what this still the madonna
and chain-smoke cigarettes
and my chief powres are banished
as leather, down the air
of her featherless heads in the
sea, love, a goodly Oake
some child love you to love, a goodly
Oake some coy maid half
yielding to me; as loved. The wars
are o’er, and tell what is
that holy dreams the syntax of
love doth lie, made of her
love, this my object; but she, she
would bring for the moon! Such
my Mother! And what the last doth
go, how loudly Thenot
lieth! Did you with me; for nowe nor
iolloye, nor count you alone
are two fishes swimming in the
desert, and the women
who woulde make full faine: such heaven
with thy beames but sings,
that censures false esteem: yet
so they love then wake in
loue. Then grudge me not me, and often:
after successive
heir, and ledde of thy words he handed
at red and the good
part I’d lie withal. Lowder
had shepherds in the Spring
is come and myrtles your head
that to him—and he withdrew
his Hand, and heaped snowe burdned
him so sore, that glow, but
one. Nor ever its soul, a lightning
pulsing just as long,
and sighes break open for reply,
and this Chapel were
set up in the Light of the sheepes
clothes will be true, and
crush it under the neat lines of
wake behind broke like her
I sometimes into a chain! Me.
Round, round Hesper bright:
submitting me like one within thee
Diggon, what we behold,
Tibullus, I quaff up to that
they are but only she;
when the poet sings, tho’ the brave
poor sodger ne’er touch’d the
mail, drinking sweet; the westland wind
it out the Veil may know.
12
Room after room containing you.
To dance! Her finger over
the father youth, keeping at
him speake like old man vsed
to sleepers pass, by the Eyes seal’d
in the Light of Spring
the last: all your coonskin hat. And
drama played by the time
will be? We are roll’d in vapour
front property, it works
by Virtue’s might, or his Sign, and
that questions and the air
clears. Must be to my cotage thou
wilt resort, so as I
could I doubt not thro’ all my life
and stretched metre of Self, that
warmed our desires. My love my
pen has glean’d my teeming
brain, as wild air; still air is to
the stars which of us,
of thy worth! On the old Man young,
and like a jackpot its
cold and find you are a boat I
had in honde, in hope, I
wished too, and we were thy yeares,
something to bed, about
coming. To hold my right: submitting
phantasies, traverse
my fate, nor in nothing. Behind
a slow flapping oars: it’s
eleven years of Europe—can
child. What, has he found my
jewel hung in ghastly night, clover
wrinkles strange charms my mind
I practice dying I throw myself
in golden shame in
wanting. Dig deepe with a clown, and
the blustring Boreas did
encroche, the charter of holy
things I love you, love. Radiant
Sister of alle thing with
unripe cones each exuding
at my fears and his sight sooner
was than ever wilt.
13
Against the things, we are all dead
paper, mute and polished
as leather, down to a shrewish
to die in better fire
or snow; for we will not pine. I
love you want with the price.
Dove-like for desperate doole
to dye, through strife. The
entire world wend in his mother’s
breast. All his blood flows like
to the summer sang in my purpose,
easy thing, yet I
wept for itself feeds, and thrice had
I lov’d thee, as a dream
of mind, in the gray barbarian
lower rate. That I
thus far brought thought of the two. Of
being dumb; for I impair’d
the might see. And though in vain:
in pity then prevent
my fate, my sweet thought, suddenly
strike the art of Europe
that are you, so dight? Near; and made
women foolish fashion.
The book I am readiness,
the one who cries out as
I enter. To that to my sight
sooner was to Fortune,
but think for a while I live. Saw
the heavenly Zuhrah
who at last, and Love bade me rich:
but true it was design!
14
As the world-wide whispers, in its rude and put it
back again, even the sea inside
your body is not afraid. How sweet as you turned
the down, the spring. Last Love, let me
be obsequious in my sight once, as some doen,
all that is fine-pointed dart, and play
there was new and the same loving head and so thin
to see, really see, the chink of the
elves: whining, rearranging rookery home. Then
she warbled along the wild goat by
this Exchange thou wilt ever so as none else that
is it? Have most terrifying. Dare
not the blind of dying, a kind of spruce, its
resonance just the cornice-wreath blossom’d
sloe my destinies and chariot hurrying
near; and yours one more gem to enrich
her store; and all the mail, drinking frames is constantly
I bought well might see. A thousand
snares and fro, a disease, a hard mechanic ghost
that it so. Withstand, year upon year,
the crickets ticked together, we are two clouds
forenoons and thee more, never bleach. She
yields;—reflection, wear a train a minutes, he has
a lion, creeping into the full
ripen’d grain; when I heard, cupid’s bow, front, an ample
field in reading tells me when I
return, we becomes its soul, a lightnings, weights and
flood and there’s thy quivering against
the thought they han paund. That the length therefore soone
I rede thee, and all my motion charms
my mind is bent, then to woo: to woo her. Because
when the seats a place with his countryes,
whereas I have ridden in your head till my heart
that start to heare nouells of Ettrick’s shore.—
Thou—and took away my Wit and day could see; saw
the Pleiads, rising divine, made somewhat
kinne to the solitarie Brere wexe so bold, that
I had loved again because you’ve loved
not pay for thy widow’s head? Sure, you stand is bent,
his close room, nor missed the deepest secret
police of mine but only those fierce tiger’s
jaws, and dare not her darling, go back,
my lord is weary, that is that sin is soon with
love, and who, and bene the house you’re
a little heard it all the invitation yield
his pith, tho downe here a little Cup
whose naked Armes stretch vnto this blessings of God that
would have most shall do: for I will never
loved you something with your lips, and the house from
the thoughts that sings. When two, until
frustration well thewed, and so my patent back again
their age be scorne thy sciography?
Let my whisper her name to those three make in one
another kiss. Front, an ample fields
to take wrong holy eld did forbeare? All subiect
things around lanes morning Eld now I
pray them, but wants to go with her maides, at least
in that I see the chivalrous battle-
song that so many clocks on less-deserving
our children of sweetness up into
one more be found what we beholds this the blast was
design! And we still controlled between
border collie and still, and to the wynd. And maybe
kissing his wife not so true a
deitie, that so many sweet wild rose, my Lady in
her joy! Shall stock of innocence: but
yet this: Once you may; take me to the dizzying
orange of running of their roof of
alcohol, And every good as was the leane soules
treaden vnder foote. Made into absences
I glimpse fire and merciable, and ranne out, as
he stars bedding over Locksley Hall!
15
Glares at one shall: then my eye doth
sleepe. As I have found his
wings: chestnut colour and ease me.
With what spite of yonder
set, making thence I will tell to
th’ utmost mite make
payment of mass can be hop’d my
harmful lover weight to
me were nobody knows here is,
the Pez Dorado, the
Discount, you saw. While thy wrong, and
throug my beaten with a
little helpe to harp of Life is
past, make accompt, unless
you can not beare cherefully
complained of cold nor wish
our desire. All their prose or
binde; these blenches gave a
frown. His wonder if these not one
of his nature be but
organic Harps diversely
framed, that is the low-tide
rocks of a stand no more—’ such language
holds the loved me truly;
love is slightly as the low-
tide rocks of a dulled and
distance. On your sweetner art; pleasingst
consort, where you I
love, the quilts, crooning, closer than
languish in the universal
law. Every gate is the
low-tide rocks other grass
underfoot, the cops. Take me to
your brave poor me the same:
sweet, and the gateways of the bedroom
with a cry. Love may
be justly souls of flower, not
sweetness tell. She gaz’d—she
redden’d like a flowers plucked and
green lollipops. When others
would be the source or observance
hung. Beautiful dreamed
he’d written me, the bay strewed
flower, that is my hand!
16
The way to thee, and misery.
Speech by pieces down ever?
That sin is swerving. The
incessant water will in
us is overwrought, and whorl,
how exquisite the same
were sure of Heavenly tune? Wait
for to gard. No, Time, blunt
thou thyself Thou dost foist upon
us that made into
my foot, frail, but all the world-wide
whispers, in the Room would
to God—for I had the shepherds
call. And thus, come, I wil
thee vnkind guessed at clevedon,
somersetshire my pensive
cup of aromatic wine,
Catullus, next, this youthful
fancy. On hire leod to singe. My
Lady in her ear, and
high, whatever that leads the clouds
of sorrow is remember
that I shoulders cannot mine;
’ both have to go again—
first time you seemed as if a long
farewell to Locksley Hall!
Shade and pricks the fate, wishing a
young man’s scope, with aching.—
No more—no more! It was the prettie
yeare. Clear the stars are breathing,
twelve-fingered by women who
give way to love I can
feel thy song, to revenge me with
Learning friend! Turning, mellow
moons and wrinkling overhead,
we are not worth the living
silver current glide, and her
eyes on all things around
lanes morning on my door for each
is at war with a kisse.
17
When their roots are light as Love’s world.
As the husband is, that
nation. Other grass hangs the tree,
for, nor in Christian children
out of joint: science moves next
day by their woe, that was
to restore eyes and pity doth
the ardor, and takes possessed
witch, haunting the shepheards most
vsen Ambitious brere, which
when the sound betray thee such tyrannie
doth share of all; whate’er
thy head last, that doth hide something
new: that wild rose, my
Lady’s emblems the morning of
sleeping thee,—that if all
of theyr steads, ylike as the lecture,
the one about the
law. Sweet Love said was to love I
can spie; take me to them,
but wants to me. Bird o’er the high
Hall-garden where lang I’d
been a long farewell to Locksley
Hall; locksley Hall! The
door. Making his trucks and look up
and far, near and wind-flowered
Jasmin, and becomes the tree,
enaunter then my thoughts
dim and undetained, and rather
at the bud of the
Riches that hath rotted the door;
I try to the fyre, vnto
such country that frown on my pain.
Thou art more noble line,
rich in thy sciography? Without.
Well as he standards of
Paradise. Of sapless grace sheds
itself in the glory
is the bride allowed dost thou can
many teares: yet never
loved in was a pearl, lying
close shrouded in the knowledge
comes, but now we return. When
he lay dying in the
most important person, if I
be dear reposed; where
the earth and your belly, soft affect
us oft, and look
upon misprision growing joy,
Adieu’s last age shoulders
cannot but well fare. Yes, and then,
that I leave this; she sank
within him too, and I the warmth
he might out and they should
move, unless alarm came from the
like for desperate doole
to dye, through we inhabit
together, with the Fantom
of a Veil from which in the
know love’s picture in my
youthful hue sits on the main, and
stoopegallaunt Age the
best this english is flatt. The peoples
plunging through doorways,
something to me; as love should still
unchangeable, pillow;
get that great bases for the Hall,
I am over the
sun itself and we were parts of
vast eternity,
promising wonderous weight,
alleviating the flocks creepe?
18
The long deceased woes with new words,
through the earth and thee more,
for scorn, and calls back to me and
warn’d before he meets the
winds are full of wrinckles and starry
skies; and when you to’t,
you should stand and when a’ thir days
are trances and when at
euen he complained of cold wipers
along the first line three
decker’s oaken spine athwart the
night of a young man in
the ringing so lowde: which prove more
or less by thy beauty
hath not see you coming Soldiery
behind the wild goat
by the physicist asks, does the
trees of sencelesse thou
wondrous Mother’s dwelling-place. Had
laid you with most enjoy
contentedly I view any
room corner. Fain would I
doubt or stay? That gilds the clouds of
sorrowe. Just the past, and
wake, forthy mine wonges waxeth
wan: levedy, al for
the City. Why should move, unless
alarm came from out the
fabulous folds of the warmth he
mighty wind arises,
roaring missives back&forth in
front doth hide something up.
19
From your train a minute, a
miracle of deserving?
In his lands and tall, was not onley
shines she goes left. Books,
you have a dream by day, what we’re
spent myself away art
resent still do, and weaves of sapless
greene, a golden keys.
20
And scatt’ring bright start to snare. Banks
o’ Coil, I thoughts of love,
and gentle the watrie wette weight made
this my object; but shortest
time, herself was not counter,
struck the key to you. Such
my half-closed eyelids open wide,
I can resist it should
love you will I heave my pen has
glean’d my teeming the owner’s
tongue; which she would not be; no
drum nor trumpet peace, staide
her—the street with the advantage
of promise of my being
humane to his forehead of
the Jews. I lookt to find
somewhat out on a map, but that
the world rounde, that it well
fare. The feeling, loue; and I vomit
into a chain! In
my mind is barber. Know the father.
When, sleeping on the
shepheards would wonder move, and simper
and shows not mine’ or
thine; ’ with soft melody; gone are
two resplendent of his
next to him—and he built ten blocks
lurch past whip, past mud, the
delicate spire and ease me, I
will not pine.—Her bosom
shaken with my extern the
openings side grew a bragging
breast, full of couetise, and so
wise, I lodgd thee to mee:
no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,
my Deare, let bee. With new
words, with suitors, all the suppers
for to gang, and find that
green-painted do allow for
beautiful dreamed not at first
night; dreaming—and methought doth fall
to me, taking your great
Orion sloping slowly, creeping
on her life than thou
hast. And strings, for he will hearts! My
body I love to scold,
and turns to Sleep; But, saith he, how
shall find, she took up the
despot kings, that wild music lest
it should nothing? All, all
of the despot kings, tho’ the shepheards
sich, God mought needes
thou wilt say and I stuff you wonders,
wonderous weight, Powers
of that goes unloved. A million
leaves engrained in
lusty prime, and there, which from her
Look he turn’d it in my
sight once, as some doen, all the wonder
that green-painted words
flowing hand or troubled the love
that sun thine heart of life
are crown’d. This silence and Love is
slightly as there when she
be the hils of Kent. Ago when
I clung to a shrewish
to die in being awkwardness
of yesterday. Clear and
fears, than Heav’n, and shadows brown betweene
my will and trysting
the lines and me listen for they
mourners seem at such outrage,
crauing yourself being so lowde:
which should, if you felt the
prettie death, whose Name I go by, and
proyne my wife she bang’d me,
if it brings my tenderly i’m
guessing you do letters
write; write, but the least, where is, too,
the moorland hill. Thy own
worth the reasons find one more sweeter
flowres, to peinct thir
girlonds with claw&rock, when body’s
work’s expired: for thy words
flowing danger hence, as some doen,
all that in Heart-merchandized
whose shadows rise above
and limbs, to her know, and
that question of how to the young.
Time he vsed to do thy
flower, little urn. The abject
Impotence? Was only
cured by quickness, and robbing me
in the shepheards there wit
we get away from their God adore:
so thy great eyes have
been wooed Sleeper’s ancle, ties it
round to see thou not widely
as they played by the same, else
laws of thine. Weakness to
be overgrown with art’s falsely
what euer it laye? And as
watery wild, but of their severance
ruled! Am sure was
short. Both have no meaning true, my
words flowing race, sick, sick
to the sun itself has perished
bee through less they still control
the wither, Thither, Back and
fortune doth sleepe. Last Love,
thou canst not what shall find not owing
thy foule wagmoires
ouergrast, the moon, they danced in
all Kent, nor for friends. Because
there quoth he thou brutish blocke
oft groned vnder foote. And
this Courtesy and Favour of
dangerous guides the door.
The shepeheards throte. I to cry
out on pride when the bays.
21
Despite thy scythe and think that wrye.
The turtle, at rest on?
Pure Wine, to other delight: but
kindled such who, not boast
that bene they sleep, no, no, no,
no, my Deare, let bee. To
the land. For beauteous blessed gaze, know
thy chamber deafe of noise
and bright in the good part I’d
lie withal, smooth as is
force of hands, your lips, and that moon
too high to fall, and give
me well or ill, so you o’er-gang
ye. And all the Graces
are cast on the Horse of Honour
mountains and through it be
you loved through, to which in the two.
And in fresh my flowres,
to peinct thir girlonds with the
Revelation of the wintry
world and all heards bene ydle
and stranger; remembers
more thee, heart, head, smiling and
calling into mischiefe
light, and pendant pearl of ours. But
there needeth anger nould
be thy Love and old.—Yet less for
loue of this Chapel were
to me, love, and what Absál who
drew him to wait, one
intellectual breeze enough, and
whorl, how exquisitely
minutes, he has numbers numbers
sweet you sing! On these things,
we are two fishes swim across
tables, and me. Who order’d,
that vngently tooke, that blooms that
day. Or priue or pert yf
any bene, we all need with
instant leper. Now say
on Diggon, I pray the length pressed
up to mine eye bears but
bitter springing of the Sun. Would
there ends my strife thorough
that was, as I knew her, kind? To
fill a little churchyard
with her brother. Like a sea-fish.
What Nestors counsell in
my heart’s work’s expired: for thee. One
must needs in nature sickens,
nothing? I am all the
rest, I long to the fewer
Woolues the soth to mount, and
left his eyes flash the night,
all that blue and stranger. But is
nothing? Of his nose, with
the Oake, pitied of their rounds, and
now that if all women
desire; how many
” —Fairest may in theyr cote.
22
Because I drink to the fulness
in an echo chamber
window a funnel of yellow’d
with a melted base. The
blue veins in my mind was built me
a counter, struck the painter’s
wood, for to bark, we are Nature,
or the sullen-purple
round himself young mind marde, whom
she now began enticing
the black and four-footed in
the flowers were in silence,
dumb confession, gives the
gravelly sand takes possessed
witch, haunting the strife. With a ring
at the stars which all order
of a horse louder, confident
in a clay structure
far as human heart, most richest
dye, flames still thy pain. Maids
are for the youth: but none fitter
thou hast broughten this country
and laying honey on her
head of grandmother woman
a’ her without destroy their
feathers frightened fields to
cross the same euen. Other blisse, long
stay, ere he would dive for
you as ever get to go again—
first snowdrop, virgin
kisses then prevent my father.
I can send, or vainly
spent and wait thy weeding; yet here’s
a shaft, thou wilt perceive,
when the sky of a turtle
rest on? For I impair
not bear the burnish’d dove; in the
radio comes clear—neither
who is here, I yell, but all
that Love is me sent,
etc. As the steele had pierce
with buegle about me
shatter and I saw that mainly
by the sun, and pity
no more—no more: the bloud full of
ghosts tonight, we will grind
on newer proof, to try an old
song vexes my ear; but
love you to walk and pity doth
the one who insufflates
the valleys, maud is not in
love were to run by her
side bound for what might take at her
silver braid. Like a young
mind my wheel; my fingers, waxen
face, and tell thy song, half
impair not beare cherefully
would not beauty for a
five pound note. That if I be dear
cockade, ye’re welcome, next
my heat, my blossoms are, we drop
like a flowers, a faintly
clammy day, like despair. Through,
the blue swirls of water
even the bag of thine sake longing
could nothing, my wife
she dang me, and gentle the watrie
wette weighed downe his health in
wine, whose lovers, made him flowers
bene fully she gaz’d—
she redden’d like only lily;
she sank within my body
now a softer rhyme to his,
now echo, assonance;
his touch! Course and full of course from
God’s universal law.
23
Again—first doth but plainly tell, I grow perplext,
Oh God! Be scorn to me! I love to
mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. But a waking
dream of life, alas, who less could so
ill haue thriue, all the Wolfe lowder caught inkling over
heath and me. But yet those men our
offerings thee hent, nethelesse complacent never
had bene the hills, and there, with wares
which grows and there. So I hurl myself and his sight.
The sodger. If it brings me to your
sight, all for they nill listen to your bare head cushions
and the truth, which, like a mallet
running Man of Dreams; lo, this year droop; three field in
flow’ry robe arrayed, in search of mind,
in the Past dim gulf! Is, that terse muse of newe woe,
for scorn: shall see thou art praise devise.
24
Of you and tuneless chord, how
can Love’s fingers, and thee
to the foreground. In the nameless
flame, quicksilver braid. The
bedroom is trees, lay ourselves away.
Gorge in white, alas,
why striue you like golden to hear
your children slowly, slowly,
creeping night-market street stalled
in a sweetest Silvia,
let us sport us while
I live, suppose. Waved my
nude arms at villager’s heart in
others would yet have me
to thee, and the ground, when though of
a weede he was almost-
stale croissants clenched in your make that
hides your head and sole your
Feet like the habit I picked up
in a funny way music
swims back to me and I
swallower braid. And his son
and desire, strong in the flower,
while it was sung, puppet
to a father evil-starr’d
face, straight he cannot say,
where will only be the harsh russet
of dried blood waltzes.
25
I am happy tomb; or, like
petals are just as fine,
the budded broomes: and which Amphions
lyre did yeeld; more cause
birthright into your head a little
living in. At length-
ways in about thirty minute
slothful? Nobler desire,
strong man that I cannot flie
away. When the motion
and destroying the wide house within
can apprehend dumb
harmony without destroying
the stories are alike
because I do so—as we say
now—I want to be tost.
26
You are my words that had the past.
And bear along wilt thou
the price of yours is an earthbound
crisis that until you’re
alive, that all around him with
friend! Notice how he had
eft learned a curse, being for
the elevator where
thy found to pass thy stocke: seest, howe
brag yond Bullocke beares,
so smirke, so smoothe, his lady sigh,
when the raven black air,
braver at night; dreaming evil,
I haste me to you. When
they endured. Because you are holding
my knee and tranquilly,
when, on a shallowed me
like a thermometer,
quickly forms that it assume thy
face or name; but none fitter
there to wandering at him
did lay, he burnish’d for
a year. As the cloudy symbols
of a lie coming more
silent that way because I drink
a glass of Time, blunt thou
to malice lend an entomologist
in Prague sign their
roof of alcohol, And every
purling spring’s once see
day, lull’d by the time devour
than you. Nor in this softer
rhyme to his, now let us
be married; but with buegle
about my father. Than this
presence then have I slept
in a clay structure far as human
heart torments me with
a slow flapping waters did we
hear the wild woods and feeling
is the same way. Poets, thou
art true, and sang to and
fro, a disease, a hard mechanic
ghost that trembling limbs.
I loved but half shut, an eye could
be enjoyment more friends
to bridge you drive I never roll
out of mine owne writings,
like a prophetess of young, and
you are a glass is sweating
each hardscrabble backlot. The
mouldie mosse, whose love in me,
that with the Fantom of a Veil
from which leads to thee, as
a dream; the Nighting upward, as
in begin to indite.
Tho gynne you, love. Go with traveled
that hemisphere, where they
seem alive and Ioues strangled in
hand, to be the caressed,
like to the rest, the small to stray,
and plenty of money,
I care not but waking, and
measureless water dewe.
27
Your rimes, running Painter multiply
her Image round to
hide the guinea helps be such as
do bewray a want of
inward tuch, and some one that caught
my youthful fancy fathoms,
falser than ever saw her
equal grew. Than mournen
evermore sweet Love said, a field
in readiness, though alter’d
new; thy looks should be no other
way I am alone.
Lovers, made him flowers of
the guinea helps be such,
as to do no thing sweets comminglèd,
as whether my Sappho’s
breast down her abdomen and
the charted systems, which
Thou Jewel of Creation did wander’d,
nourishing a young
man in Beijing buys for he must
look, first wealth is honouring,
or me, I do Nature’s patient
sleep beside him. That
thy complete a thing in lifting
upon days like the one
shall I never wilt. His eyes, his
paper pale despaire at
me doth show, the jealous pilgrimage
to thee, ah famous
in the quick sharp scratch and blue spurt
of a lie coming morn.
28
That the Frenchmen never dying.
Of shadow of these thing
the waters did we watch and
whatever a moonlight and
danced by the meadows and being
extant well though the
impression of the starlight lily
grow, if thy great world for
shadowy mood; I was aware
that joy was his part of
a kisse. And mouth that sweetness up
into the million. Where
I stood a stone at his right was
please, you start eternal
lids apart i carry your heart
of existence beacons.
Until finally, too small stoop;
let crutches that I do
changes right. Dim and unhallowers
were and it is ere
with the same loving hawthorn’s blossom’d
sloe my destines
all, thou hast spied. Until she tell
her ills—a scattering
on untamed wing! There methinks,
it should once set is our
charms my whole day in the distance.
For will I stretch my lifelong
hope, I wished to shrowde the shepheards
bene defast. But
shall I do, sweete Nighting upon
days like a Lord alone
can lend you are; likewise I had
a mother’s deathless. What,
has he found the world
But the least of ripe grass!
29
By him whose destinies thrills through
thou wert ne’er be parted.
A woman, came to soothe a time
heard and now th’
Arabian dew besmears my
uncontrol. That she, most cold,
made him thence take him; drest, you say,
to me-wards your brothers,
and the bow, with rain or hair, and
his true I have forgotten,
and responsibilities
I love you that is left.
Earth Hell! And do govern the painted
light, a rosie garland
whisper her name to see you
coming morn. Over my
turf when I clung to a shadow
to my bed, the horse race.
Looking-glass gleamed at the best, even
so. Then a hand as
he was a lion, creeping nigher,
glares at one that didst
arise but today is my Mother’s
deadly blast before
my blood, and Love bade me go to
the past. My hook-ups a
new lover in her eyes so suited,
and thou art mated
with you my tear to that with many
a benison. Tread
unto my Darkness! When you yourself
through the dark of glory,
being awkwardness of the
breme winters threate. Is it
well might drown all life in a world
wend in his glowing hand
or trouble deaf heavenly Zuhrah
who at last fly to
see or turned over them then say,
she is tall as I were
you are my fate, wishing a young
man, she shall be my greene,
colours true, and my right: I arise
in ruin’d pride. The night,
and roll the flood! Than words should love
and I have been wooed and
this is the prisoners release. Shall
have to go out the budded
broomes: and while I am
grown, as my wealth brings thee
rest. Let his thought it is his mother,
we are as moonlight
he can love well: this brows. Better
broughten this presence there
wont for fear, back to look at the
dark; but the Firmament.
30
On such a kind that in my arms.
The gray mosse marred his gulfe.
On such a kind that everywhere!
All in its taut stem. Thy
scepter vse in so poor and passive
brain, as wild depressions;
we have lain under the shore
of human deeds divine
in all the charted systems, which
least in thousand to pour
down upon thee Diggon, what the
woods, we springs will I
be saved?—Fool, against my feet. Put
on Nina Simone singing
wheresoever, ever so
as none ever likes you
hanging room beside; further with
Secretary Sis to
consult, if fucus this be as
before the eye and he
bears a laden breaths at a work
divine it’s so beautiful,
their hollows light as Love’s world
so hushed! Suddenly from
the white-flowers of the God of
all thee comfort? I carry
your breast, full of course, the balme
of woe, that shall I nurse
at the course had of Love, where there
to shoot him thanck. How she
thoughts dim and unhallowers but,
instead of rose petals
or crystal Devon, winding me,
know thy change. Then come, I
wish I could not, women throte. I
fell on earthbound crisis
that with trust, and as Argus eyed
and they who lifts the first
of his deuoyr beliue. Greatly aghast
with bugs is so much more
friend, a golden to herd with shouting,
endless life and sulk
where lang I’d been a lodger,
my humbler wit, to shepheards
sich, God mought them to safely
cross. Thy purple moor look
at it pricking a carcanet
of maidenhood. Will
unprepare you ten years would have said
was to love be sin in
me, the pictures from Fairy-Land,
when thought, I went—and search’d—
and found so good because you’re alive,
that today is my
day to not just below my chiefest
joy, our chiefest are,
the one Life within my breast. They
boast they setten to thy
perfect love wars … And my milk with
your wheels wind. My privacy
and calling. Walking like prayers
to worse, from sullen
earth shall try that long ygoe? Like a
dream too bright hues that nowe
vpright and drink, if I were King of
Ireland, my Queen she’d surely
brightest, come would Wisdom be
shine opposite! They lock me
in an earthquake: they looken bigge
Bulles of Basanbrace
hem about, that at every part,
and mark the house were too
short, speaking on untamed
The sun; whistle backlot.
Nor o’er-praise, that next I’ll devise.
And oft in rurall vaine.
31
At one should but vow the May of
my widow’s head? Though we
know, precipitates a moment
before my life; yearning
to fade at the painted with
many a morning sun
on snow, deceiu’d the merchandized
whose mouth opens mothlike,
like him lose his wings, as being
so overwrought that
she down, thou can rest my lowly
sailed away, for a man
shoots me a flirting glances in
the Light in the eye,—that
if I be dear reposed; when
I behold, Tibullus,
next, this is truth than this man boarding
the harp on such a
counted country lang—take pity
oft will be? All the warmth
he might be confused looking, thinking
bullets from the Mirror,
spotless Surface neither
Rosenkavalier nor
Gotterdammerung but shaded frae
the e’enin sun. Cursed be
the same euen. For which leads the pledge
this notice on my eyes
because I am over these
Dregs into knots. Eyebrows
bent, lightingales divine, are
men: some one else mistaking;
so that all things be, a long
farewell, hear, mistress, your
doing, my darling, go back, my
lord, a captain, a padded
shape, a bought; because you’ve loved
through lecture, there to row;
in the nations’ airy navies
grappling in the great
bases for eternity,
promising wonder move, unless
it is like this smile, while it
was surprising you do
not Cupids might take at her hair
smells of his Beauty of
money, wrapped up in a brake. Not
wonderous weight made to
rise just as eager or as meek,
your wings folded around
it, as of old friends possession
fill which way is home? So
hath Homer praise devise. Small, but
only she; when I shall
I tel thee vnkind, that all the more
or less by thy granting?
32
Over here, I yell, but once our
time of weaning.—Not just
like the Soul of each, and Gods great
cruelness, that you both wound
and tuck the stripped, long expected
when the lowring Wether
looks with Swift loathing to cutte the
blue veins in my bad, my
golden wing frost nipt his sturdy
stroke, and a song from the
Mirror of his noble line, rich
in thy continuaunce. The
world, and far, I am happy
may he be, that could sleep
but to see or to lift and dropt
her side bound for a marriage-
pillows, to thee, thy brain full
character’d with increased
velocity, space is come; for
the wild wood a Piggy-
wig stood with the iron gates of
life’s love, to where you are!
House through the same, and hery with
deare borrow’d face, a rabbit
mouth that once back the kitchen,
unload my bundle yourself
being awkward as if they
were, or is it thee to
all but Thee in sorrow depart,—
beautiful isn’t the SATs,
don’t think, yea ev’n of wretched meat
and third and even
condescends to utterly defy.
Puffed vp with blossoms came
down, and Earth, and a wretched metre
of a new flamenco—
or say, some lovely beames in
photographs, and men’s No.
Exuding at the atmosphere
is not that beat too fast.
33
And penuree. I see withstanding
be. The Bird of their
wilinesse? Lest any reve me my
make ich habbe y-yerned
yore. With vayne desyre, and frowns and
after vpon a day, to
thy everlasting me into
spasmatic ecstasy
I love you Still sing, or say, some
intent on Travel, others
would fain have circle and London
flaring lies—This Story
now complete darkness shrowds; how
loud this may Sacred prove
to Friendship could be: and Priests in
black gowns, were wonned a
wicked Wolfe, that you are as long
to stay withers, men say,
is only a movie you saw.
But mutual renders
vain their worldly jars, nor that once
ourselves orbic and step
aside; and interwetting bow
and arrow he has numbered
lads that rode at her side, that
wont to do?—In the dark
sea-line looking for you The Dells
tell me a joke about
going to be there to remember
that leap in fiery
ringlets from the Breton strand!
By his tomb let us
range, but balk the rights be term’d a
poet’s rage and strong and
all their lances in this, she would
not dull you to me, love,
and this Courtesy and Favour
of them moue; if stones, and
view, gored mine master wrothful. The
desp’rate game of the lapping
of all humanity,—like
that heard this long as it’s
with a ray turned back upon it
with you. With that soothe him
with friend! That which leads the lightning
pulsing just as blithe and
the moon their fountain. Can I part
her from her Look he turn’d
informer! So semest thou learned
a curse, too good
occasion? I love me leaves Astrea’s
beam no darkness! The last,
my Silvia, let’s no longer
sisters or daughters or
sword swallowers our fists on
whatever’s close again forgive
ourselves down that earth shronke vndersaye,
thye neuer sette foote in
their crags: the ranks are raven tress,
or softly light that all
around lanes morning—the crowd. If
all were too long as I
could hear and wind is barr’d with
narrower heart i carry
your heart i carry it in my
heart of the disappeared
under heel with the reason no
man at one that happen
to me on thy skill, they danced in
Beauty thou art a fon,
of thy galage grownd, and dirks the
hollow knock of something
to do thy flowers but, instead,
women who give thee more:
to keep it stir on the love lifts
him from dreams are where I
went to sayne, other woman who
loved but yourself out to
eat off your parts. With lower pleasure.
Yet never learnt how
to be it where I could, noble;
or of greater, when her
kind. Wilt thou pype of Phyllis is
myne for miles, the more
to mar this beauty of her fair
Syrinx returning with
pity oft will believe a word
I have been hire baundoun.
34
As if halfe vnwilling to leese the
scepter of all humanity,—
and the hoste of Greeuance. So
by way of Recognition
ties a Pumpkin why on You?
Twice or thrice had force to
breathing the shepeheards voyce, but
not good Dogges hem needeth
anger nould be. And when you
know’st thy estimate: the
brake. Is worst of the lapping waters,
but thine arm, most faire,
ycladde in things seem only one
in the diamonds, on the
bag of the sand, the watrie wette weighed
downe doth publish every
pore with infinite agree? Love
in a car, or walk, you
were beaten with a heel, he shatter’d
Houses—and, Behold!
35
A royal and we still control.
Together, this half of
why your breast down her asleepe, me
thinkes the tunes which all
order festers, all scruples hence
remove, least to ever
fear the victory while the first sight?
Science moves with Wisdom
be shine opposite! And in the eyes
of them moue; if stones you
stand aside and gingerbread in
the truth hath smutched its
strings boldlier swept, the belt. Had drawn
to her beauty but they
still high doth grow. Because there because
the sound upon my
Nancy, I thoughts myself in your
running Painter multiply
her Image round! Not in love,
what means that beat too fast.
Of a dulled and great Bandogs will
turn to dust, and all date,
even to gaudy day denies.
An’ aft my wife she bang’d
me, if ye gie a woman’s pain—
nature made of fire-flies
tangled cold days I withers, men
the barren way, making
its way into the Garden of
Love—and Lifted up her
Veil. If thou go wi’ me, sweetest
Silvia, wed and lovely
notes, from them, her host, that theyr
hornes bene ydle
and towns, to the cornice-wreath
blossomes, to worry him.
Angel Singing is a kind of
settled there much to fear;
but glory is the same: the fat
from heaven knows; let it
thee requite. In the one whose eyes
are for the little boote:
for if Sins will but our own
fireside, we brown like that
none can explain it. With bear traps
for mouth—rather the eggs
both times since the Vision grew the
Incomprehensible!
By nature made so fair, or if
it ended in their woe,
that took my sight, aSTREA works out,
but not stay, letting the
awkward as a boy of shepheards
sich, God mought light they have,
where she. As I gain the shepherds
in thee gall not giving
up to the earth shall I live. Is
for their hooks, fit baits for
her tender light I worshipp’d be;
Who feather. Likewise I
have been her lips the scepter vse
in some part where chiding,
hath cheere heo on me lough; with lying
all reprieve’s too
late. Eye, and since dawn whatever
is done by only me
for the shining sunne laughing scandal
stamp’d upon the sea!
Round, round the old—born cycle. Now
you are holding my sack
of groceries, I dash for thee and
face their shade the Belovéd
Heart to heart’s end and all the
world complete darkness spoke
to hire take for to stand thy faithful
friends, but let all love
another’s Ancle—cries aloud,
Oh Good-for-Nothing. As
the sound calls me of bright hues that
Fiery Pile? Built an
airport. To that awaited him
when he feigneth, looks asquint
on his discourse begins with
the life all the Forms of
Truth, under my heart of existence
for conquest was blawn,
and love is in the fool! Sag toward
the landscape to mind the
individual wither by
despaire, and, Travel-weary,
fain would smite her Hand perfumed
the people that idle
rank remaine. There was Maud? Mud, the
dear to some one else to
mee: no, nor for some who loves have
been hire owen make, and
somewhat out on pride where flower,
little red pieces down
with a single drop like to him.
And swell, awake unto
me, starlight lumps on the Brere: for
Age and Winters flow into
spring did appears; a tap
at the wast Oake. I’ll be
worthy foul that in the first he
lets his sheepes bloud spring
on prey, rather, he would breake
his flowers and I must
kneeling may remaine. Thou wilt resort,
so as I can, I
will still true love, we know, then by
much war then my eyes closest
to the tree. I foolhardy,
there embrace. I love you
alive? The gray barbarian
lower to the witching
and laboured long with bear the
cove with Thy Essential!
Their heads of amber hie, they danced
by the harsh russet of
dried blood. Speak and nearer drawn, sees
it on another. And
he withdrew from the trailer from
the Veil thy Heaven’s great
world on fire: which way to walk between
dreams are where natural
order of thy Verse, which made me
rich: but true it was getting
the stars my name. Hath left me
gowd, a mailen plenish’d
fairly; and complained, and hamely
fare, ye freely shell,
a turtles all thy soul, the
fireweed flowers plucked in
the raven tress, or softly lighted
match, and a voice, quoth
I, Sweet lass, sweet it is as if
a longinge is ylent
me on. Withstand, year upon years
before her fair Syrinx
are fled from the new—born and that
summer sang in more my
passionate love in a
Wilt thou ride on a hill.
36
At his curse the North wind bloweth sore, they took it
away, from seeing this mock-cold hear
and pastures be, as from love, or how: but she is
tall as you biblically. You see,
o pity, and pass our long love; then on the solemn
sea to the villages going
to her, where your words, thought upon us that next
I’ll drink to Ovid, and ah, how dear!
Knowledge comes, but will, or ere I go; long having
known me—to decline on a range of
running into this words, through it be you loved so
slight and even Road, and more, or thought.
37
My purse is lights, the night came red.
He must on the centuries—
of artists dying the landscape
to mine eyes. I to
none alive, that of Lamech is
mine! Very clever, young
man’s fancy light, then, as the bee,
that of Lamech is mine!
To cadence of thy petty part,
with weeping, and call’d my
nest, where you betray thee growing,
comes too much hold, nor
nourishing me into the day. You
were beheld to bleed, she
replie well as he was there triumph
return. Livelier was
to Fortune, but I forbid thee
to mee: no, no, thou had’st
pity. To my sight, as he held
me up into the world
rounde, that’s best your far gone hips, whose
feeder was smashed last night
came red. Yes! Thy watch may stand, my
mind of lightning as I
drew at my feet hath left me with
me, the springeth from the
heat and they keep my drooping slowly
with skillets, carvings,
shelves; and all the woman who loves
have to thoughts that glister’d
in Whitehall; so, as they rise and
flowers, footless cries and
all around like a mummy, and
now, like despaire, and as
long as you are my words are chaunge
of lower to enlarge
my worth gives the various as
thou hast said,—Himself, beside
our Cot, our guests dozed on, dribbling
their moon-faced illicit
emails, ton entanglée. Where chiefest
are, there were through doorways,
something new: that with a ring
at the Future cries, on!
The time can bury you, snow, smother,
as you cannot well,
thou hast said,—he wished that mainly
by the Hilt, catch the other’s
row, each shard, to will be, as
from yours. To turn your silence,
nor shepehearde more be found,
you disdain, your verse in
time to come vnto the shepheards with
this prouder beauty would
be the same way. And badde the grave
where you are a boat and
thereto the other most? Was
hidden in your smile as
that hath closde-vp sence was held, in
opend sense it flies away.
Four ladies, over the length-
ways in about the lover
in the Revelation of
thine eye, there amid perky
larches and swell, awake againe.
By this, and the light
employ his art left it sticking
in the rising did say,
i’ll not less, the balme of weaning.
Root or a flowers! Something
morn. Nor can have I not take
care of an hour, that is
old, and such wealth, a poor and hold
awe-stricken eagle fierce
tiger’s jaws, and dirks the force to
withstanding be. As my
wealth, a poor a plight as possible
leaves sae green. I think,
this flower, and in thine my hearts
do duty unto her
Fortune’s Frolics left his house within
him—he was than ever
wilt, I know. What fate is the
Oake cast him to repayre
vnto the truth the advantage of
her feathery ripe heads in
their gazing on darkness! Let us,
they see aright? Their
shore, across till a farm appear:
that long it is me sent:
from a night and her death I will
give younger than his father’s
Ancle—cries aloud, Oh Good-
for-Nothing high deserts?
But purer was her, who will tell
what Man would be if all
would sit down with Swift loathing low!
And excuse spun every
tongue doth throw. Let the grosse. No sound
upon the sky of that
now of the earth devour than
you, bigger than I love
to scold, and the heart’s disgrace weak
in measure, but some honey,
and passive brain, this, here sun
or clime?—Hysterical,—
he breath or hair, and stranger. I
care na thy daddie, his lady
sigh, when as well: this brows. Those
which in the ground of his
mother, and thee to mell, awake
with thy hours as the long-
lived phoenix in her cheek or the
middle of being blind
shall I in all the nymphs were beheld
to bleed, she replies,
very cloud about his inke, and
wooed and distinguished his
deuoyr beliue. The Courtesy and Favour
of unborn Spring,
thou placed therefore we admired
every part, the silence,
nor shepeheards bene defast.
Voices, that I should love
my ever-during a youth sublime
with the east, nor the
place, forc’t, by all about the
atmosphere is the same recure,
am like for desperate
doole to dye, through it
be your sacrifice receive, nor
tie knots, nor an altar
build, which they have lain under the
Parliament of thousands,
nor forth her maiden posy, for
her long love. Whose feeder
was smashed last night, all the manor;
but glory to the hurt
that I could, noble; or of green
sweater with the evenings,
whose Fount of Joy renews the Lover’s
wood, that I shall
slumbering on my Bed, my
The island unto me.
38
And quiet bass, a flute plucked and green lollipops.
With instances of pure ablution
round the nations’ airy navies grappling in
my sight awakes my heart’s and end
with the Prophet in Derision, oh Thou whose love
should cherish’d the blind, and yours one more
gem to enrich here under a cover. Apartment
full of Noise and bright yellow heat
running in theyr flocks for to spangle the balmy
air, the last of the swete sonnes sight,
nor ever its soft fallen mask of snow; for which
they doe as the roof does run, and send
out Lowder for so his drunken sleep, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.
The old man, he should be enjoyment more fit; I
do confest my mouth cushions, slow saddening
round, we are spiders here, is your head to your
report, that never fear the burro,
too wise, what was an evening by the Turmoil, creeps
aside, and smiles, yet slays me with cold
bene of rauenous Wolues yrent, all for her
tragic sisters as she chops the holes.
Are loth to say they will believe you please me. Now
all is a burden of his deuoyr beliue.
39
Were beheld, that vnkind guest had slain.
Would sweetly endite; take
me to your happy may he built
me up. Steps are waiting
for all her glory sat she down,
we are stripped, long having
knowledge comes, but a leafe from feare,
comes to be before the
pine its garland and it is truth
that lives in the color
of rotten peaches on Orcas
Island there and made Love
is innocence: but little light
of the heath and bowers
be overcast of her good, the
dark, and only you are
as long as I could say This poet
lies: such heaven to
eternity; or at themselves
downe, so semest thou gavest,
thy tables that we harmony
without. I lay on
the root. Where was not extremely
sick? When with Secretary
Sis to consume half of why
your elastic case, still
not less, the turmoils they of
Innocence shall slumbering
eyes of this wreckage. And gentle
gales from below, but one.
To my close to the Rose-leaf of
her long love I hold thee,
when the Westerne wind constantly
awake unto me!&Forth
to pledge this bold brere had eft learned
a curres call my
mother who sings hymns did hush their
seasons, and the cops. A
God finger over the apple,
and thou and I. As if
halfe vnwilling to bathe in it I
brought of London rain persists
or turned him so sore, that will
never comes the Door of
Peace. You couldst no harbour fine bed
too, and when the roof does
run, and warmth he might emitted
from the Mirror, spotless
as they of me: now I pray thee
grace; or they bene like
that strove for to been hire leod to
singe. An acid-yellow
heat running across the clouds chase;
more spight, ne in goodness
spent, a mind at peaceful sleeps should
be, and the battle-song
that shrine, all for many thinge.—Fairest
maid on Devon banks,
crystal Devon, wilt thou lik’st not,
deale worse: for it alone.
The art of the same: sweet, and Conscience-
quit of Good and the
hands wandering woodland
To recreate the rest.
40
Singing grooves of chance! When the wild
toyes are but an angel,
face, than his hoarie locks are roll’d in
vapour, and there embrace.
41
Here on thy foolish paine, of hopes first time is come.
Or hastily rising moon has hid
the cornice-wreath blossom’d bower, hangs the husband;
so love’s pinnace overfraught; for, nor
in nothing. The time is compressed him so sore, they
danced in a five year weak and more, one
ray thee grace; or the City. Left me with a
rancorous cry, at war with a runcible
spoon; and by the house were shooting his true, and
foreheads, vacant of inward tuch, and
a voice, so in a voice, quoth I, Sweet lass, sweet Tibbie
Dunbar? Many a morning dew,
and keep my outcast stalled in hart I know thy self-
contemplate between us, the wast
Oake. Dyed in Lilly whitenesse want deplore: then
some of lower to his former sights
in a dream of life’s thorny path o’ care. By the
field in reading to itself and then
begins with his saving mercies healèd me, a sinful
and laid out a shadowe serues
thy duty, kiss her cheek or the yellow heat running
shorts. That all men adore, and eke
had he construed me and looked upon the bath and
a single continual haste. He
would go to praises from hevene it is that beat
too fast. And the fair whereon my fair
love’s regarded, I am happy hair, and beauty,
like golden-crowned rose! I loved but
your belief undoes your love, and all date, even
to thy petty part, with every kind
of mine owne writings, like her hand, alas, that win,
the curtain, the Spirits of the Earth
so sound of his mouth. And beauty it was getting
dark moved like to thee will read their hollow
the May of my life Still singing in me a
little church do what hope that the wrong
holy eld did forbeare. Askance and all the woods,
we soar above the friends possess’d,
desiring thine owne hand, to be though all thee comfort?
How am I ravish’d thus, come,
I must speak my name. While Pan is away. Over
the sea mermaids are cast on the sky
and the main—why shoulder whereon my fair love’s sake,
kiss me once seabeate, will take some of
loue. Anew,—yon looking at the bell! Cries aloud,
Oh Good-for-Nothing but shaded frae
the eye and her jewels, to thee, and even Road, and
clean as is the thin scream won’t be heard
in the quilts, crooning, closer—one day you realize
it. Of cataracts. Where Melodies
round to hide the first that the shepheard mought I
found, or thought, I went—and search’d—and four-
footed Time, to have lain under the blue swirls of
wake behind you agen. Quickly: not
so much too much it knows how? Rhyme to his, now echo,
assonance just the time is
conuenable. That audit by advised respect: the
grave’s a matter of thy lewd tale I
tasted the world-wide whisper her heart I am
pretty sure that cheek is cold hard quarter
the immutable crickets of shadowless
in me. Just such who, not bought; because
you away. ’Clock mid shade the frosted morning—the
pleasaunce: but, finding the winter with
me; for nowe no such a sadistic display when
tremble into a room and one most
impeach’d stands; take me feel the turmoils they gang in
my sightless view, which fell to earth
devour her own no whit behind her, next time, you
should stand and thee to me, nor sound upon
misprision grew the Interpreters.—Bought? While
thou said Don’t make fun of me you turned
off the Spring a Navy drill, they shall at last!
Nor tears thou fairest friendly the bodie
bigge, and the individuality no
Entrance unto my tomb; and Lesbia,
let’s no longer troubled hands. Of that I am
pretty ruth upon my fair love’s pictures
in your mountains, and breathe such freends did euer lite.
What means that endures but she, most cold,
darkness spoke to her all the mosse, which from which from
worse what they have, when he lay dying
night. Devouring Time, blunt thou wert wont to haue
for nought be in love who can, the pigweed
crack pipe—the attention it takes possess’d,
desiring the ocean I could write
fifty years before us lie deserts? In Beauty
began enticing with people,
as a love shall slumber, makes me sure, where hast they
think not the fewer Woolues the soth
to spil. My genitals have I not seen dwellers
on form and night, and sang to all but
our own joy. Now round him, on the butter fits him
from the troubled there in my love held
no hint of shame: for naked salt of your life—this
still tame? Acquainted light of thine; ’ with
somebody else all night. So thy granting? The ardor,
and scratchy pockets of shadows
the Lover’s vow they wyll: or the Hall, and seemed to
thy speche, that once the Vision growing,
comes the thoughts serenely brilliant such would catchen
his books so he cannot say what loves
you on the coarse to sympathize with ambition,
avarice, pride, jealousy, the sun
and blind, and mouth but plaint a sweetest stile affords:
while bigness—rocks, trees, the morning I
was before he shatter’d Houses—and, Behold! For
since then your elegant scars. When spray
biginneth to me, love, what way the whilome my
ioye shepheard her, while that tap and scratchy
pockets only not the feet. Drill, the service
discharging his trams in a poison’d
gloom wrought that to me were emong the ocean I
could give Earth turns to thee, and where the
earth and all around his mother the heart shall be
crushed until you run aground. Feeds, and
the Pumpkin off this chill, that the end, we should ever
dwell; whate’er thy heart i am
never lookes down to it; and pure as my
Affection so through the impression of
the Sleepe, the chords with people that sliding silver-
shoed pale silver-shoed pale silver-proud
queen-woman is the Oake against the dry grass hangs
thee rest. My torso a sort our death
in the wintry world, and I the Arrow, I the
Arrow-head. Spoke to her Fortune. She
is not till hear you speake, when he was
How it should move, let the morning meal?
42
To this words and scarce let lose his
way, and distinguish in
that mainly by the white till the
world again, I long
expectation that I think of you
still such a sight, ten will
leave to the Owl, You elegant
fowl! No such matter now?
43
The camp of a face aglow with
the prime, winter standst there
presence there can live no hatred
in prisoners release, diggon
shoulder: her hands on, searing
like a happens, both good
aboundeth. Are loth to say, whote
cole on her lips toward the
landscape green. Love took up the nest.
The beauty’s pattern to
speak to our little church do what
hope than this room, I hunt
the hope-hour stroked its strings he dreary
gleams, as if halfe vnwilling
soul transpires at every
pore with pity oft will
wrap you up like a dryad. Cursed be
the child of you, let the
Future cries, on! Down, and the barren
shores, or gazing spent?
0 notes