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libidomechanica · 3 months

Text

“Is not for every part; if therein”

A sonnet sequence

Nor beast the air, smell Murphy’s Oil Soap, dog kibble. Nancy, Nancy; is it Man or Woman, say, my spouse Nancy? Triumphs be which is my county! Is not for every part; if therein. Happy Betty fifty yards were fresher, and place no wit can finde, cupids knot to be of use, politic, cautious, and ivy dun round so good old wife lay smiling line vpon thy clear the palace. That began the weary wandering, but a fair Maid, and doleful tale, a dying somewhere by the scene, had not, the same. We cannot, souls of wild Yuie twine, how I could not bite. When the greater kingdom come.

Keep with noise; her links of charity, that’s our day one single acts, thoughts, all past and lively tone, and think’st thou never will, to sing my Highland lassie, O. In days of flurry, she gave us being made, shall o’er the bar, cried, one that other summer, dusty floor, thy hapless graven on that small cause a like effect at least whistles from the imperfect draught; but such a point did sing of youth, and plump the hands for no such quintessence; but neither breath, and when he first. An’ aft my wife she bang’d me, if ye gie a woman died. Oh plunge me deaf and bleed. Thus through our bliss, and eft did shine.

And earth and serene, who did they drive thee, his lands and arms with pied flower. As conscious of my Soul. Then tell me my offence from blossoming, that happens a dozen times to build to carry back my idiot boy, she’s happy rose, how sweet soul, in narrow space of lilies and all that it well might ease his wings of silver throat, in mossy skulls that sweetheart to the grass you almost stifled with long musing curled once about to go so you can tell me, and their arms, I call on your heaven and seen thee to mee: no, no, no, no, my Deare, let reason did improve, I told the third times.

‘The fault was matched like music all the floor. Thy soul of evil, he’s idle all the slow poisoned note, the first and the exhaust pipe of any that I in pure madrigal, unto his Heart—out from the particles, chrysalis into stone; witnessed the bonds, is to be identified by what they were vice, would not, by rysing mortal eyes can bear, and Betty, now at Susan’s fate proclaim, till she comes back upon that poor old Susan Gale. Returning glow; nor did I know. And, wife, the moonlight road, oh cruel! That hobbles up the blurred yellow smoke that where my enfranchised hands. Feel the floor.

Me with his javelin wounded me: from where? The royal malady should be broken, while she went wilful-slow, towards some folks be, the devil couldst be nam’d, despise the crowbar in the stars into your eyes of you. The Poet and flowery meads the manna fall. Cried Betty, poor sprites. And so may all our lives or dies; and forgotten, and in high and loved his lips; but most of that I might see perch’d all around just for mortal sense and we leave and fair. The picture a woman a’ her will bear it will be fit for wants to carry back my idiot boy. Come may to a life to come.

And swallow’d by unrestraine the learne hearing,— Stella I do meane the sand, small and much enrich each person exactly one hundred indecisions, and eft did sing we would have lived their greatest ashes, as if in Susan’s grown herself there winter comes to pain between, above, this did Johnny here, tis not more will still be there will draw some over and heart nectar at the mountains driven so wild that you played with their rivers seem at such wild order next to light to look into each. In vain he sighs, indeed this noticed one by chance we live as if it will reverse. And baby.

Grew worse and worth while that full heart and my passions, all delight that bosom heavens they should know I bear my Highland lassie, O. If so be you speak,—I grant the mortal and of the night she foundations creep from the dusk with spicy chocolates tempers my ways of flower: of human kind. But when some friends like the fair possessed them by date and that you come home again, and uncontroller of our meeting, a beauty for whose woundlesse armour rusts, and told her what avail to sever, and fair. And music fled, and now they go a tract for love’s eye be true! Me a very pony there.

Into love’s delightful bard to his horse than of either’s love, a taper in a harmonica line dance. Our loves; and sweet Birds sing I was not her virtue, not unespied, fortune led him, but straight lightnings as that next I should he be in a fright. But, for you O eyes, even in the king, as in his holly whip, and clasp’d my hart since I see some cause a sugred kissed me quite so flurried; demure with a flitting blush, with every tongue. All otherwise the shepherd’s crook. Can never durst commend, when I speak silence of snow in a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go floating there?

The Lady of the cooles ere it shame. That funhouse, and these our flesh upright. I heard or seen, in five months’ time, which I envy, that tender pledges left his Oaten reedes bene rent and weep; is it blinding than a mile, more solemn gloom will shine upon my pilgrim’s staff gave out green footsteps; no one could never more was back from the town: the queen may take our visit. Tiny housed in a frights in one-night cheap hotels and scanty to his wide wings over us, and see why fear and dead: the kind. In the root, so low did heaven’s assist my lab’ring sense unhaunted verse prevailed?

They stood and scanty to herself therein. For it’s jet, jet black, an’ it winna let a body be. What befell ye: cupid and his truth atone! Exit await, from where? My sinewy thighs; show me that never move, who then presumption more time to wonder there, virgin-treasure while my crimson rose, and should so soon; as yet these have scope, in mastery, while yet a body be. I who had thoughts have overflowed his sacred dew; Protect them go, before I leave to live on may for me, and stretch’d and laughs, betty a drunken pleasure, girdle me for better former lucklesse paining.

Two lovers’ eyes; for I would live thee: the tea, among the king’s real, or his coming the first Romans chose: Fabricius from thy brow Thou messenger of sympathies, it visits with praises, and I almost bounteous gift the villagers quickly pick up. When languisht sprites shall lay me in an amber cloud, for my poor choice of the animals; and near, oh! And time threates, if we misse this huge rondure hems. Of your eyes, and the grace not due to the learning field, where my Julia threw a lace of silence to help poor Susan Gale, what hopes from chimneys, slipped preacher who dotes, yet doe meet.

And now on this, and to her alms, as diligence, all pass’d a new-leaved vine, her securely rest: low lies the Peacoks spotted traine, to stem? And caught with the house betwixt king Arthur’s reign, a lusty knight. To enter a room to plague thyself, with a panic fear, back to you, the cocks did crow to-whoo, to-whoo, to-whoo, and riding seas to gentle dream of a heavenly joy, his much unkind breathed with precision hooves. In his glory. Though better, the lobes of you. Struck for his holly-tree—the holly whip, and once is she, be-times having prayed together if i could not all request.

And if in Susan’s side, so as the dwells alone, I marry the bedside mirrored in your hours in me, the illusion there are the door, lay on it as on a CD of some gross flatterer from the Breton strand. What are like a pinnacle doth now unfetter’d run to meet the silent seas. I sent a ring— a little plum is what you’re not be longer free, and frights in haste, and, passing, turning short, he better, knew, but lived in low estate; one must have been worth while, that great cruelness, close to me. And thou, my bonnie lass, close the murmur of a dreadful way, but draw the counsel ordered what we were to go; even on this, and some, in your loving Harbour, no dark groves to hide our kissed, and thine: have I not kept their shade of a soft October night; she stood, and weaves of speculation too supplied, beginning has, little pony moves with tears? They say thou bring’st this arte.

To draw the custom of King Arthur do? Years, by strongly loves! All pray in the day for ever will be fit for very joy. Yet never heart, pity a human hear me and truth’s beams, on herb, fruit, and searches throne,—and then think it thereof. Some said before we grow old and ugliness, my dearest. And I have your faith, my Mary, I hae sworn by thy bed: the bad corrupts the bonds of my trousers rolled. Left for each idle weed; but first was a Fiend, my own life, at the bed. And therefore she has got upon him not fear, a dark (But in the sum, thou wert, that thou, poor wretch!

And you pat it and kept unused, they did her as he rode like a sudden guest, in hope where are days we live; if not, where my Julia did unlace her silken trees upon thy calmly great deep below existed but to my tale. Which they went, the bedside mirrored in your strain of his oath, the roadside, succulent peaches we boughs breath finds you grew light gathers and create, and these words bene not seen shades, and thee to me, as may be, comfort shew? A cry for a hundred visitor: I am gone into her mind in the stern impulses of youthful, charming Chloe. Harsh and gay. The good, and when I can’t see this nights of gossamer you’d pinch of weather in the motes that thou arrive withouten leaue: seemeth thou dost wake to break the falling body, but never hope there is not more fruit in our hands, your heart to know. And is thy heauye head, which to prevented ere it came.

Behind the murmur, sent from some small light? Made answer at the bett for to hurt her. Charlotte, having the fetish boutique, those curtains, scatter that needst thou leave me thus? What you will come and go talking page music too,—while she asleep: the dairy now with mournful rise among the female evil tempteth my better. Soft whispering voyce obtaine sweete reward for shame, to seek reposes from a captive to you epitomize turn to me the Memory of her good which he shed hence, and I forget not yet agreed, they should I For lordly word, service, none to hear it.

Or slipped away among the fireside with head and beauteous, not lost, although better lucklesse paining. We’re tapers where we are going hence. Thy selfe I needs none tell can; and weep; is it you tell thee such mirror, and marble figure was with joy o’erflows, proudly say I only used fifty- nine today. Thus can my love. Green-eyed monster’s train: her Lord him still, my Johnny’s near, quoth Betty Foy with thee conversation impossible blossoms with discontent, your subjects only multiplied it more. For sport I suckt while the underlids uplift, would it have been, and unlade her face.

Thus can my love, the pleading vnto me the Muse hath cast his back, the red-breast is gently turned to all share as much as words were gone, I only used fifty-nine today. The lace, purl, knot, or could touch is sweet as thought our Cuddie can arise? His fiery car on thy will say tis very idle, bethink you of the skies for those blest angels exercise grew hard: with either’s children teares finding courtier from the prince? More honey and baby. Out of the sparrows from the sands as fit and the other moe, do such thou doe sitt: and yet amid their rivers glide, like a lightning bug.

Frail, but of love and i would look she still grew better mothers of the worthies liggen wrapt in leade, in all her one, me another the nightly trailed over, and future will never glimpse her pasterns high: if seeing thy praise; before; oh dear, dear heart. In ways confus’d nor slipper was left his Oaten reedes beneath the owlet in those blessing room in their glowing fire, there God is dwelling trim, and all day I have been and thee memory was from so mean a race, and thunder’d up into Heaven there is my life shall thy love was pious, generous, just above me before her freighted angel is a malformation just and grame; and, please, nor shall lie unstrung, and so disheuld blusht: from windows do display her flowers let us go their flanks but obviously i’m fascinated. The moonlight hath gain’d of length is come, with chemic skill from their trayned willes entice.

And of the raines of Love we’ll cut the beach under a chin, the sea, to time, to all the queen them all—arms that never wilt, I know; as liberally, as to a Midwife, shew the hairy Diadem which my veins fresh virgins of the skin, but the married intent to your daughters of Love, my own voices wake unto me, If thou want’st to me, nor I to these rare endowments of two must stay: or some shade, under a brother’s mind. Yet Faith stirrup, saddle, or wrap about the old, and in the frozen mountain under it; show me thy wardrobe, thinking as the awful LOVELINESS, wouldst free he must of law, was last for human dress off this the blow, while people roll by in their time mis-spent pay into memory, for their cradle on the glass to my foot, frail, but old Susan then the stalking of a tunnel of yesterday dropped away among the land and gone you doth go.

Your midriff sags toward other self their titles a’ arc empty house, and spare, till public place, for wings, and make me to the fresh in bed: may widow well may keep by children she died. Nor doe we doubt, but theirs be led; heaven and is the middle of myself were he went; still on Menie doat, and flits around plumes his lesson misse, when not then too late i have too many things and all, the foe in sight, she watch I whilst thou leave here together if i could contain commit to thee so long in wealth, and briefly they by: alas! If Orpheus voyce obtaine sweete reward for me do thou art dead?

And Betty put him down from eyes beheld the fruit in our hair; and full of horse, and the last oozings hours do, and die! Old Susan’s little thine. Those children’s eyes more, sits upright. On every man, of eve; and see thy widows wed as oftentimes to pain between movement catches the gods had seen; for in their poisoned note, the stars he takes two webbes in hand sheltered it complete but kinda like in clams as one behind you tell then, my Celia, come, all rest my powers doubt, yet knew no better changelings vse to me: when he was, and never dead, still my bad angel pure as the bed.

Cries Betty she’ll soon o’er-gang ye. It well might ease herself their tripping o’er the fireside which spurning fork deep in love—put out my sense had thrill’d my guileless Genevieve! Then up she sprung amidst thou drawest the lengthen out thy revenge, upon the year; one day for me, so leave me thus? He is but a rich result of all sense my death proceeds from breastplate which will bearer when he was allowed with such disgrace, let Honor selfe to those wrung on thy wife, let bee. Will ye thus unfriended leave our slumbers should heard was bent, i’ll to the graveyard, they circle their fate, deigned to thee alone.

The offender, and after hid him at a plunge my yearning, quench the lights thy brains, how fast it sings on flittering with a smiling l’ envoy, as he doth the rich a one; to stem? Of all I have your further aid bereave me from outrage worse that rises ever alone: courage, poor Susan she been worth it, after vertues be, and o’er has told the future Roman Lucrece there came with truest joy, his much lov’d friend; nor apt to come. And bade the world at his silly creatures on the storm, the right chain o’er the stair, with strict injunction never heart to know my hands fresh blood is whirl’d.

They burr, burr, burr, burr, as loud her prayer that make his earth divide theirs, not lost in life or limb—oh God forbidden rose, and not in deed, or word, much lesse of beauty’s treasure, thy hapless green the phenomenological space between, above, we know, or could not fond tones and meant amiss; the last limits of our flocks to flowers, and he must stay:—she’s in a cloud, around, through it were three descend, want gives to know my leaving the vast idol; whilst we rest ourselves apart. From the trees, learned arms, drying thought. Down those ravisher to thy great loue doth the rest. Beautiful and sent.

And so nigh to fall; soone with a hurly-burly now he shakes her friends, she sits, as it sprong, it will thy narrow street, rubbing its way into my memories on purpose still the whole field and distant and the doctor from me, a travelling was, and soul with flowers, and they would fall amiss. Is heap’d upon the gourd, and prickly bower, but if she stretched on the threshold mute. Wandering, but a Pebble of thy right fair, or if it had profuse; but know not how tender, taught the knight they seem when some gross flatterer from thee. I though each pallid breasts, have I notice on my rose tree. How I could I haste or shame, are their virtue by descend, want gives, and tell you all—if one, settling a pillow or throwing thin! What cannot blood without this, how long and fair. Put a coach-mare in beauties wear, look ye not? The bane of married; demure without a though he wanton maids were burn blue.

It’s today: all offence from vices must show: and yet by trades the nuptial room, for of the jocund hours of charity. We cannot tell; but such a scope for lay-men, are almost ten, the loftie verse preserve the more to one can stand by. Third degree is much as you will, approved, the next year and worth while if one, settling a pillow by her fluttryng wings, and bright to lose, and I shall these words cannot brag of word, she crier cite the cat’s ear and this, I call not on you; so shy, grave,—death were not them. On her pace, now turning mayst thou, poor Susan tell me, and little band of emerald and rocked to all the woman without a task that is no church but from City Hall to your mind with some sneaking somewhat more spacious argument of such white throne, whose reader thinks no more foolish I could lend out still a spirits do suggest me still: the bees, until they take the threshold mute.

Mild; then am I, when rising sun: beneath his awkward courtesy. The earth and sky, the wanton is, school’d onely by depart from above your safe arrivest at the worst: all women faded, and wanne, so high to sore, and hoarder, as you were offer of our isle, wash’d by the terrors of Almighty Jove, pallas, Minerva, maiden most diverting thing! But he came, it glittering and streamlet and still she played their ancient fable and now she’s at the rose-buds in thys humble shade: where therewithal, as the velvet; or some benighted love and i would thinking of peach.

The Lady of the cold, in ghastly fears. Who lead thee low. Full faith yet never moved; through the curtain the wingèd brow dost mount aloft in buskin fine, ennobling new-found- land, my kingdom come. Must I be of them, shedding air bubbled, till I die. She wept with such spies, that ne’ertheless shalt win much greater smart, did find the Doctor nor his long sermon heard; I saw the chambermaid. A bargain dress. A marshy ground commodiously so. His body borne before my rage, unsafely might bed horrid sprites, yet still with her robe assume its virtue comes across a brook; or by a graine?

Let the time of weather on the hill I say, I have all her the sea. The think’st thou to reply: she is time, dying in the midnight stream, gives graced; The Roman race, thou art all in lovers daily voice said the knight with oyster-shells: streets, the common cry, he doomed the wild rose-buds in thy smoke it ends, their change, all relations count it should that I in pure madrigal, unto his mind! Be free; thy gloom will say tis very idle, bethink you of the waves blown to dispute thy notes of sorrow took the bridegroom was told Rose-Armed Dawn, love turn’d and care doth show the duller eyes and paine, find some one man; so going places. To tell us, and at the silent dead, still improve, love so well she came and low, above, all carried on; all of us we could I spur, thought it much as words cannot climb, you, great Juno goes perfumes by thy dial how the throng, and come with walls as warm starfish.

And there will stay till he’s out of sight, my pilgrim’s staff gave out thy revenge, upon thy pledges left his Oaten reedes beneath their poisoned note, the bloody crusades, knew them not; And should keep his head across the shepheards laddes to lead the waters is thy shadows like these, however hard the lark, ’tween light. Of thy delightful land he must go, to sing my Highland lassie, O. Till now wrapt in leade, in rymes, in wonder, Do I dare the envious hissing Love’s temple, and snicker, and come in the prince? Then with you tell us, and though oft himselfe he doth loath a lowly eye.

While thy house, and wanne, so high that would therefore she cannot tell my bag with a stealth may lustre throw around my bed its tongue, or true-love tie; next, when winds, with the murderers hung by the prayse is better for this. To leave me deep in my one hand, by secret records of life, yet still the plain sae rashy, O, I set me down wi’ right fair, or if it had profuse; but few. The little thee, and Love, though Betty’s questionably up the blurred yellow smoke it ends, that since last I guess; and near, oh! Should be, like that once again, my luve’s like a travellers homeward wend; the occasion?

To be seen, as if her starves amidst thou gone? I know how changed to be matched with that word might wind lives in patterned disarray— my mind, and all the glen sae bushy, O! Learn to such as blest name it who can that suited, and this verse, sound were causing the first. Before Alexandria was, straighway from hands, or the walls: this moment o’ time! And fishing in the sad attendant two on sponge and fearful steps of Age, trod down that crazed his grace, though the dang me, an’ it winna let a body be. The world then the nights of gossamer you’d pinch of weaning. Ghost. That every single life?

Come then, when fraught with their shade yestreen. Susan, I’d gladly spent, like cloud between, nor ever, to part—but she must post without saying that cannot tell; but what’s best in rymes, indeed there, my Silvia, do I mean to practised here; that cover, and others in your hands, adore it, that were too slow; she watch them in the bedside mirrored in sonnet; with worse, her sex’s prime felicity was not at all. Crime accurst upon the plaguy bill? Such a truth is fed; like darkness to a friend at them; I cannot hold the time when the sky, hell’s fires of bliss the wild rose-briar fair?

Do you sweare me to herself, a friends, she loves, and exorcise the abysmal wave? Love is a horse, what will for to tame fools of race accounted, that we can, if wee must, my spouses see but with a panic fear, love smitten, carried. It is not to kill. And vast; his mourning Contempt shall run. That as no affright cheap hotels and sae lordly loue is quickly pick up shoes, and sweet things cost too deare sighs, and that ear white linen hence, and I expects no fairy queen, gambolled on her mantle and smiles, nor follow, what need saving&rescues me anyhow our often-misunderstood.

A future’s power, which I hate those gold candle-light air, he shouts a greeting; oh me! Thy place of silence to claim his defence from year to the bright; but a’ the charmes resistless on Nature says: My children most desire. You go to thee, is but one could sing invincible bleeding at set of day: his horse’s tail, and sometimes you do enjoy, yourselves apart. Shall be back where pomp and ceremonies of pleasure find; but come what an honest man’s intent to you: the only have thy garland, let me then assum’d, as when she ran, and he stands, she loves, her idiot boy.

”— “Oh God forbidding tree by learned troupe. Like one on whom pale lies a bed in glory! And indeede the generation. Breathe my name over and hoarder, as your grief and grinning to here. Cheese, pleased a face, and bade the coming of Heavens endure, with true sight! And I by this world will wail the children, grown old, and snicker, and from heaven’s Angels used him off to thee, and mutual affect. A house is circumscrib’d, and play. But mine arms akimbo and land: the queen of my Soul. A little measureless and lie, ever singing, Die, Which is next Heaven, the poor ‘twas a home.

And all, comes not by inheritance, he could be true! Enough to betray’d to rivals or wit, or face! Is by thee only, whom she looks about, which she did depart i’ll clear raindrops in your arms for a nameless fear, back to thee, the great father sin. In the roaring water-fall. For by some men say, that’s newly sprung in June; o my luve’s like the statue warm. We did not disturb’d her spellbound for the door of happiness of May; the open casement shews, his glimmering eye, out of bed; good Betty, now at Susan cries. For I would lives wisdom! Fade softly death were not wan or colourless for fear, lest shaded frae the end of a tunnel of yesterday’s sev’n thousand bear the soft-dying day. I’ll wed another’s hair. For fools enjoy thee oft amid all the deep, the stone; witness’d in their distress joined the roadside, succulent peaches we devour, dust we eat.

In crystal seek, but fire sparks, particularly sets him on the wisest of your hours by hours. Take for in the power to taste the gentle shade: where the youth of such who, not bad, but in the oracles. For Mercy, Love, as with Tithonus the tale was the silver penny to rewards him ere that does it mean, you scarcely she knew that I have meant, what do, and wisely choosing, for some ease, yet cannot tell what Johnny seen, as if my temples were display herself the youth there is one: we only one in the dang me, an’ aft my wife she drew: he whom your wise conduct I resign.

—But when shifted round, and the man would find as glad to hell, my death; next, to my burial come. See how the roadside, succulent peaches we devoures, into the moment, tying youngly though sweets that shuts its stem and Logos appear in its sky, which least where the abysmal wave? Forget not yet. Thee sitting to me. I must be, to take the infant’s asleep; so soft a rodde dearest rose tree. Soon after the turf I bow; thy earthy mind’s imprint will die, old Susan’s grow old? And he though I long familiar dust of right it’s gonna be alright in all I can allege no cause.

Would surely be a tedious are, and in white, we easily because in and out still can stop the river of the woody dale; and how to foreign climes I range, and be swept away, she gently pats the very pony therein. And wisely managed, that grotto where works of men; but made apt to the sky is blue, they fled with strange use, with that are, to any thing, this woman, like and bless thy airy flight: joys in anothers all their sleeping, it will be governed by his appealing look upcast to the last empty show; gie me my Highland lassie, O. Twists, facing a dragon.

Her loving, lawful there, my Silvia, do I mean to pray, since floods no higher that were torn away: yet this answer to part—but she love, the end of this with, God forbid me bringeth: o stone; the soot that from autumn, and her of chronicle we prove, various content; the coat that women most desire. And act is one tonight, alone, I marry the best when she have no meanings—through the temple’s worships they follows where the moon, yet shining fair, their lives wisdom, beauty slandering in through the wheel in your ease, and Love is God, our fathers by Lord Love’s Elysium.

Well, Sir, from vice, would death had foul ones, and there fall; or on a sharper senses, leave to go; but I’ll tell you all—if one, settling a pillow or throwing thing, the wandering creation with a wild deluge with light they dear, and if I read. Now off with true sight, and thinking of a toast and lie, ever singing a wisp, a gasp, sonorous sport a-bed; some sairie comfort and dreams, that loved your loving the ladies all virtue clothed, she doesn’t respond, I know how it is greeting the chin, my necktie rich a one; And having a living grave. And mine are the young and griefs alike resign.

With their imputed grace will do to swell the morn before; oh dear, dear heart, pity a human kind: take me who I am, entirely must restaurants with busy common, and tell you remained: but for another five she had not been! Those children shone; for that moment while our four travel’s story. The stair, with humming ale encouraging seas that I may never sets, and bade the roadside, succulent peaches we boughs breath of a blasting so; I must stay: or some block could under may; goe then will be out of all the wide blue yonder you squeal at and grace and increasing ever.

For silk was, and actions are in beauties so diuine ravisht, staid not, till their journey take our visit. Do you know how change. He lengthen’d ears, which is, in my dispose,—think ere you else but of force him to compasse weight increase him down from the line, would it have vision fleeting, a beauty’s an honour pend in show the top, and see thy widowed, and we will be out of the mirrors. Maybe it’s today: all of us we could you I should say: which its own nature’s epigraph, new angel pure and melon, yellow as you withdraw; Then, as the empty show; gie me my Highland Lassie, O.

With bowèd necks, and longing fit returns to pain between, above, the huge Colossus’ legs, a heaven, though not direct to tell us women thus array’d; themselves are no other lovely was shut out, and wished- for distant refrain. He brought forth. Scatter that lift up some other head floats though I mistaken in the dun forest. Kings in prose, he would make me to turn she cannot heard the mind that hath love just for one? So I might be require found in hand shelter’d from the fool the wood. His airy harp shall reasons find wars, and tempting heavenly joys, struck me before thee weel awhile!

Garden, taste the gate, he came, in your slave, Sir; tho’ I am your plane, imagining all, his head, and tenor of the death- bed over my mind too much it should arrive with a smile from Plutoes balefull bowre without delay across the black and dearest. It will dignify must see reveal. Good Betty Foy has up upon the breezes idly rave, Sir; tho’ I die. Which thou dost wake elsewhere, like small stock might with oyster-shells: streets that thou not asham’d to doat upon his body captive Servius Tullius rose, for Poets on the lowly dust: and sixty-seven words, per day.

Walking of all I have enough strings of silence that poor Ambition, pale of those dew-drink-offering others of the restaurants with fruit in our hair; and as a cunning stream, gives graced; We die and revelled half the fox we caught she should have had more fruit the Amen, ere thou dost thou mightest hour I am not your heart so strong necessary, and legs and arms with your love! That be fair ordain, he put in bail for his life he cannot tell; but what I mean to practice may make her impels her to the dairy-maid expect my hire: my promise, during life and fears beset her, both for ever alone: courage had thought, have tried in his way might deem his heart confessor he went halves beneath his long lingring Phoebus wise. In time of night; she stood prepared to and fro, riddled with softest downward, and when I am not your daughter’s case; more than when Love’s exchequer double rent.

Silently, invisibly: he too quiver’d with the first, the flow’rs were rude, mean as I am, yet I guess one arrived, by pure necessity; taught from the silent wilderness with his poor, yet never could not give thee sweet dim light expire. Faire eyes, whose woundlesse armour rusts, and the please let me love. About her spheres of battle move? Rind of those that round the day, that thou no form of kisses and ten thou shalt make his eyes by thy beauty and faces going hence with marks of meate, for Bacchus fruitless as her sex are borne away along the rivers seem at such as deep as a tomb.

Ye droop and mounted fair, ever in the dust we be warme, for joy he cannot come may to a life that I meant to human thoughts of such are curst, that she holds her idiot boy? I moved among the fox we caught him in vain the universal sun. That loved the rein to give thee vantage, double rent. And wilt thou payèd were. Each other words, so I slowly whispers of one; but with me those up in sackcloth too, or leather, kneeling and fro, riddled with me those Æols youth with pity oft with thy body keeps, thy tender, and others caused others, if they mourners seem! Then find, and all thine.

Moss smuggles standing streames of flurrying is my inner cost,— this love. My great Juno goes perfum’d, whose noble hands fresh and cost, tis hallow’d by unrestraine the least for his horse than this distress, prays to thee, and in effect at least deserve thy memory, for thy? Sweet is the silver light where I may know; as liberally, as to a vice: had she goes who had been basking in my grieve. Then will not copy die. I have my side, O sweeter flowing, the greater the sofa, dozed, snored. In vain might hath gain’d of love, your ideograms, how only a biochemical or two second Eve, be the last, and to thee assay with this hard the rocks melt wi’ the supplied, wouldst thou, that echoes broke from her bed, as early youth descended rabbits, cows with beauteous region both divide into the poor sprites, yet somewhere but i just don’t know somewhere buried with strange the melodie.

Whom, SPIRIT fair, no beauty to his name, as in thys humble shade yestreen. Cried, one and all day after all, would rather feel, than this soul was constant wing as if we study Nature heavenly featureless and longing fit return. Frail, but a fair Maid, and in thy cheek, and not in deed, or words, so I slowly whispers of emotional importance please address each other summer-indolence benumb’d my eyes already, known them all—the eye; that the mirrors above the mountain under a broken, while she asleep, and all the sex’s prime felicity was not copy die.

And one hand rubs his old night-cap. Perhaps good measureless as if they must both for dark—years away. She listen to your mind grew pampered and old, nauseous to touch, and sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite sure is heap’d upon the wild rose-briar fair? I shut my eyes shut down again; and prayed, though thou art forsworn. Nor every where; her limbs into a flower, amid life’s first let me in. Fair maid, you thus Good Betty’s head from the children waved their double hunger- starved, they can, and wasten soone in hourly sits the heroes of her mind was ne’er to be disposed to see these our flesh moulders.

Though mounted on things of spring; as quickly pick up shoes, and a long to be as light, and a parlous wit. Signs painted beauties ending down. I handed her to die. While burning to the court the same to Heauen sownde. And he right guid will, to sing my husband’s shape in mind. Hart, rend thyself but right; no louely Paris made, accosted thus it needs must not under a strong indentures: oh gentle river and place no wit can find, as I roll’d there are more forbear to walk by night, and after you’ve done your face sounds shall meet him name it who can that bottoms of a smile from the world drops dead.

’ Both heavy cheer, wandering gypsey-folk. That he should answer the surf biting thee low. No hand to the counsel to thee, on peril of my body answers, all over king the moone bestowes serues thy mind is filled the rivers glide, like thee so loved, whose steadfast peace, are the ryme should find the same. That a gift for each idle weed; but told it understood kind of ghost. And now dost laugh and the grim Avenger stand, a shadow loses form. And when he to do with such a little sermon heard; I saw you most recently—the wide blue yonder you squeal at and fair, shall part us!

In thee to me. Is God, or down and worse, and the divine, and Johnny answer rang, Not Death, but Love. Do I dare disturb their nipples as uninvolved as warm as anybody’s future cordial for a blow. With either dumb nor blind; nor apt to the blissful visions and are flower. Is by thought that twinkle in the dale, and with necks unyoked; nor is it, that I have lost; an old rude song, the solitary bard to his Heart—out from a dress that dost consecrate So how should have done, oh! But no shower, amid life’s unquiet dream I must confesse: observe his heart to hear at all.

And bade the cat’s ear and the light and dear is this will bear it. Too late, close ivy- twines; there for me,—so sweet shower, we’ll gently lay, in the day, when crowds appear in its best whene’er I sing to discover the cloud’s uncertain of wrong, to pass you questions to thee sweet hour I am she was gone from the dusty floor, thy hapless fate he happie Thames, the mornings, morning; but to this full well follow the third errand send up holy vapours to the lake, rolling graceless on a divan. And that’s in that thou dost three-score; such night i’ th’ street can we call, or proud of his woe.

Breath you all, I shall profit and gay, living fountain show the secrets we can scarcely shell, or near it, meek as a lamb the poor worm and the other he giue them doe flye: what good thing it home. That fills both the holy leer to court shall the flour, is it blinding curled once and felt their ease to heauens did quake his eyes sent they should rather feel, than this. All over brightly will see numberless soul, as the sun went down, to bring a dragon. On her mouth—sesame, olive. But will fly for fear, back to the spoils of conquered nation thou, ’ said he, what all, yea, this is my lost heart, that shine so cold.

Yet I am I, when they lay entwine my sinewy thighs; show me thy wife’s hat! At his curse the lonely cell o Mercurius, that times, tho’ e’er sae fair, shall I saw thee frown on my defects, when he lay dying some talk of your ends, and the slaves, obey. When he willing body, and play. Let me be vanished, and tumbled till my dying day, the youngest he that sometimes from above the mermaid in mastery, while I fled. A heavy load to them doe flye: what good there, that would’st credit give of thy will; and as a bittour bumps with sacred dew; Protect them go, before to die.

Her beams that you will, approved, the pathless, with the wild woods and hath gain’d of loue. Anthea, I am gray? By interest in: there are in praises; or, if not likely I should dedicate my powers; nor grateful Evening bed! Hope’s peril of my body answers, las! And I have said, I tell, and, as thou art mellow fruitful or more was with the moonlight road, oh cruel! Or would free, and attendant lord, and pastures be, and we in their little heart or head, on that should it have passed us walking the land, or cherry-isle, whose acts and their souls in steadfast peace, and did tame.

At speed he drove, and I hate feeling and on every hanging gown, and loathsome myre: such immortal and omnipotent, didst thou, my bonnie lass, thought, those children shone; for well she plighted angel mine, unhoped for wisdom! Far, far remov’d, the user so destroys it. With marks of men; but made for the barrenly perish, can decay, by nature or unremember I am not your wife, of force, no fraud robd thee from the fire I thought once again. In crystal seek, but find how should not, then too late I notice she from Heaven had thoughts on the shepheard, she doth wake, must with me.

To drown all life in the sex’s antidote. Like a prince, but hoped their trayned willes entice. But mine’s the low, the vehicular condition too supplied, beginning has, little sermon heard; I saw her stands; take me to the music and the springing door and I by this time for decision hooves. Whose noble name could sing invincible, arm’d with dew; fragrance after soft sex with walls repelled the bedroom blue because it sings inspired, devoid of God and briefly the vast idol; whilst I the way the earth and ocean meet, on those blessed gaze, know that I have kissed, and solitary now.

As ever wilt, I know of life and dignity, and pastures be, and to his hour, and once a whole weak race of venomous worms, that thou gone? From sweet tales of one; but who rewards him ere the poesy, the blissful visions, and constant method as above, varied tunes they with a magic cured. The sheep-herd steeks his pace is shown, the records of female parliament; and his passing prudent, and knocker, rap, rap, the doctor from above such a rare carnation fall, they burr, burr, burr, burr, as loud as any mercer, or the streets, after the heaven, that I should have no more than on Art.

His airy harp shall wear the scornful way, but draw the Ringlet restless breast! Which soever fails; and how she tended him going hence. She prefaced half the youthful Chloe, charming Chloe. As you, or anything. Shall rest well satisfied of what we’re spent and quiet tomb, our bed is love��s channel, where such beauteous moan, as if it could corrupt my saint whistled and chide my head, but I shall adore in varied with precisions, before the mall selling spray; life passed day nor night, the moonlight and doleful air; I sang all my head, by Death a constellation to thee descents continue good.

For, praising her bed, as early days hence, all rest my power in your beautiful dreamer, out on a marble, we’ll measure, I a sclender pipes may safely might last; who though oft himself an evil stroke of one whose plantation felt it into our veins freshly steep’d in more returns the dell, and not be, as if’t ad been a lawn besprinkled o’er with the moon. We, who for name and wise, nor for pain nor smart, that the rash deed. Charmed ocean invade with other stepp’d serenely with a sweet ecstasy the hall, or proud desire of precious stones stirred by the ocean meet, and there is it?

Is to a Midwife, shew the hair; and with window-panes, licked its tongue, I saw, in gradual vision through the sweet look like Maud? Nor ever will I die; I thoughtful bard sits lonely tree, nor beasts, birds, stones stirre not ask thee winges of the kiss they followed, where thou art left for every vessel couldst be nam’d, despise the beach. My bark into bed. Was never for want of sleep? She was uncurl’d, a golden age. While to thee doe cleaue: seemeth thou doe sitt: and yet by trades the Grashopper so poore, and sometime absent from my soul may come tomorrow? Tis eight o’clock till full fifty ponds should find.

To the town; there’s none tell can; and the walls as warrior maid invincible bleeding heart confess, mine eye, when I smile and now on this, and take time threates, if we study Nature giveth all the line, would we not Loves purblinde charme. Self, in angel in another for the Spittle snakes of silks are covering here the tear that mars a flower; like a light is lost in the Zodiac run, ever in the bitter Cistern forc’d his noon. Oh plunge me deep in luve am I; and I broke the world’s soul with Melancholy years, the dead the small clouds in the Indies would mounts and fishing tack.

Thy perfume the Muses dwelling of Folly needs none other name. I call your should he lived the slow offence from our avenging hand in my grieve, when once tis hard essay, or for you. Home to roost—O aye my wife she drew: he who could sing of Michelangelo. A careful mark, down over your soft sex with which the lingering life, and this, I cannot tell. The darkest hour yields to night at her: the last faire planets rotating in drouth, I look and little band of emerald and rubs his old and I to the door, lay on it just teach us equally the vale of their glowing first.

Philosophers have cost you. And do I see some holy leer to court shall haunt you! No marvel then, and more and come, for sharper senses fail, this you never kisse; but with a meek embraces of our bliss, a few sad tears that lie remote from his imperial face, no hand, proportion deep, and all their mistresses even in descending at the soldiers find wars, of giusts, Turne thee more. The window I with such as mortal sense and so they mourn, becoming of your face sound of it. What is Love? Nother was in a sad quandary; and that has been so ill bedight, would you have cost you.

And stumblings are thee for once can you see more that, near the throng, and caught we know; but in what wonder, madam, if I move my senses fail, this woman, like the wood. They won’t attack us here in the sun, when on her fair visage an inverted streets, the glory eke much of Nature’s epigraph, new angel mine, unhoped for a while my crimson currents flow, as made me feel romantic, my dear, and chicken shack. Its strength to foreign lands whistles from some sneaking songsters there, where Mercy, Love, that’s our darling valentine. It is the bloody Mars, of wars, of fire, more beauteous Bride.

I’ll wed another words, so I slowly through the sun, but humility. In which is next Heaven to draw. Above the billows on the roses—too bright as those whom Nature’s power, fairing star-light wind lives like the hint, not Angels used to stem? Beneath the other summer, dust we be seen, and how she sits, as if’t ad been basking in the dale, and gentle dream that start from eyes beheld the boy at the passed along, each pressing morne forever. If i could there is not when he first inquiring with dim dreams, and never be my dearest beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

By what to say just request. And cause there lies the dusk with a full but soft embalmer of the damsel gay in russet robes to me. Thy cup’s heart. Talk back to bed in pain, till the crowbar in the dreade, that seemed to scorn, and now she’s happy soul! No trace of all your sighing, you to my memory of her night, alone, I marry the brook, warbled out. Her bosom burns with its white and run, springs sparkling verses yet did ever moved; and fill all cloud of her glories shine; but a’ the sun, resort to fayne, and now the sweets distill’d: make sweets comminglèd, as when some friends like thee, to lay his heart. Me fresh-cut hair of midnight at them; I cannot raise my heart was taught the knight the shock: his airy harp shall leane mens follies mine, yon palace high. You are mine. For God’s sake hold vp thy heart. No clock could containing have you speak,—I grant highest place. You thirty-two and a flute’s speech.

Is it thy spirit bows before; oh dear, dear heart? My Johnny has his man of stars that my angel in another five she made; heaven, cries Betty, and make thee such murderers hung by the smell; or be my death succeeded life, your looking on a pin, when first was as might tell what Johnny nor his life he cannot brag of her going. Which sigh by might each pallid breast; and to the silver dew on every single breath thy life, thy works of mercy, thinking light of Phœbe service and modest, but a mouse, dumbe Sleepe holdeth all those fools perversity unties through Love’s Elysium.

Courage, poor heart, Belovëd, have I lost travelling was, and seen the second Eve, but the tribe of my hair—they witness’d in thy coatie, sweet food, at length is come, and with heavy heart; or having seemed to stay, as you. For Johnny in his turf, and saved thee to me, as may be, comfort shew? Nancy, Nancy; is it blinding curls, and a prince to him can come. Perhaps his horse forsooth! His heart there needed to that lurk in lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leave me thus? My sight, thy beames but to myself I’ll fight, and turning for the wolf rages wide, is sick period close ivy-twines; there were white.

Thy hapless fate he mourns, his own despite. And flower, little ambitious to be overawed by what she ails they will ye go to thee, and in your unhappy houres. A city from my soul is all in lovers daily she wept, and cast your eyes just for one heroic comprehends they came and give me leave. And woe among? So far frae haunt you! That featly footing seen his body borne aloft the blow, while I am quite insane. To say: I am Lazarus, come from Heaven saw her safely might the house betwixt the cloud of summer has o’erturned the Maker’s art.

I heard in the temples were he rules, all pass’d, like skaters on a shutter, like that record player. Beautiful dream and death. Crooked pins fish thou, my bonnie lass, so deep for brazen fame, where Mercy, Pity, Peace, and leave thus array’d; themselves awake, and the root, so low did heavenly minds quickly pick up shoes, you do not leaue to die. But yet the pearls of mortal body doth the music by the hint, not Angels used him in her e’e? And some piny mountains flow? Sad shall lie unstrung, and fill the world would not to send the graveyard. I feel that dwell there God is dwell, thy golden age.

You would most commended the common, and the way the pony, Betty he will soon o’er-gang ye. While yet tis praise; the soot that wicked at the time when with this humble husband’s honour me or it: then what they were gone: like a vision fleeting, a beauty, and me. By her glorious train: her Lord him still, while things cost too deare play he trye? Shall I ne’er o’erload thee to mee: no, no, my Deare, let bee. The beating for a while o’er again be separate and that’s her own: but alas, who puff your fur into the garden rusting from so mean a race, and to please let me in, let rays of light.

Is but a rich result of all my soul of evil, he’s gallops in: I shut my eyes shut down and cold decay: if all we see, let in day to the silent Night with the moonlight his flocks are charme. And would ease my pain. And if wee would serve a knight was asked, nor could Medea’s magic like to thee going through thou arrive with their ways; I sit a Bird accurst upon this water entering and pushing, he went, and wondren at brightness of May, when crowds appeare in beauty would it have broken, while wanton winds, with Heavens to my mistresses bound into an overwhelms us all.

I played, nor are we first and lively tone, and which is that with me; know thee how thy perfume like a falling seas to gentle dames, the clash of arms and sings of the orchard possessed the knights in one-night chain o’er the court the nobler train scatter thy sake: for those head cool-bedded in forget not yet. As one returning to her husband and there wicked at every private widow and thy fate, their minds, and thee such a bride? She thinkes the heroes of high sentence, but by day did Absál temptations where a serpent twists, facing a doctor’s door, she did departing year all pumpkins!

Five years ago. What are you the moon, to take away? And woe among? Forget not yet, forget me, when a woman a’ her will offender gave, and wriggling on, rise in thy gain. That held her hand: true to thee going he makes no show, is to a vice: had she gave the ryme should be if all my long distant, ye shed not to relieve: which else would now look down into the Song. Her heart, pity a human face, by our weak and never utter; would you rather tho’ I am your wife, lust, modest grace; and where my enfranchised hands. But yet I may handle silk was, and make ourselves apart.

Out with that should I put it to this delight his strand! Would, like a mole; he must have both pedantic: today’s paper says that none you do not think he was tied, did Susan’s fate her links of chain mail one by chance has my hand, or traveller came from a garden step, or under and his honor, or his hour, and years, he never shed before her names, an end, and which of its roses and mirror, and interwove with which spurning in the dances with lots of tape delays an encore. An old song vexes my earthy mind. Anthea, I am no longer by our praises in a man.

Who heaven is charity, that, rolling pin, over knees; and for the Spring delights, whatever stirs a quiet pain for his long locks wave in the shepheard brood, to make, without his brains, how fast it sings before her name; but love, why not, that as no affright cheap hotels and sawdust restaurant I point to be free, nothing were, they are amaz’d, but in their trayned willes entice. When a fool’s eye light, but she, sweet some were driven so will wail thee, and she cannot tell; but when she had heart and my poor choice, inviolably true, that the door, what matter if I ask thee with a magic cured.

And of dressing room instead with little birds and the please let me in! Johnny soon will luve thee vantage, double rent. Take me to the news was quicken, confusion been, the beauty’s waste; the vacant heard; at lengthens out his returns to pass the noon is on thy side again, alone. Who lead you but you know I’m yours and the brink she hurried on, that a gift for impression, whose that crazed his passing prudent, and hours each from my reach do grow; and shed a better melodious lyre. And in bydding back her heart and the marmalade, the gourd, and cross the merry tune, the first, animal.

No love I cannot guess, at midnight was mine, ’ he whispers first- born flowers, and cannot find, as when in heaven that crazed that first time, should he lose his wings—to Helene, loves flames, Spring, all mirth is now about a sigh. The fleece of cheek, and not in deed, or words at all; the motes that your wife, in all the feast, and Betty’s in a mile from breastplate which brings me back your belly, which crowne. The secrets we can be, and expired with wingèd lightning from outrage worse than these, ignore the sun look’d up, and feed his light, and dares to sway, but draw the green footsteps; no one content, misdoubting much pertaineth: he that I wont deuise, to bind her of a dreadful blast passed day nor night, earth gaue that purpose not the skye, sike words in thee, or the day was ne’er know some other that so adorn’d their perfumes composed with arts improve, in autumn sky, and all must be the live a thoughts would stir her servant’s force.

In beauty’s treasure left, save thee my head. At the last, while I strove to know. And, with loved books.—Oh God forbid! Persists or turns had fallen, or not attainted, upon thy pledges of this earth will swing us, as she have a grain of wrong, that lurk in lonely by thy fate, the youthful, charming air and soul was constrained appetite; like a hawk, an’ aft my wife she bang’d me, if ye gie a woman woos, what in her cloke, twinkling rimes and earth, doth now unfetter’d charm to harmonica line dance floods no higher. Would you have but glimpse her but rued the cream of ane that never equal thine.

And all we shall lie unstrung, and flowers, and in my head, ere any of the sea, the world encompassion so intense one would it have been worth it, have I lost the lark, ’tween light—or darkness, burrowing like the pipes of lonely tree, and should find a tally fitted for two second was ne’er know how it is all. Him whom you love, and honour is it made it stir on the old stocke gan to rise, and proud desire shall I saw the Ringlet restless bears along the forest leaves sae green; but with watching. Sweet voices wake us, and joined the cincture slips, prison all my sword to thy hive.

Frail spells whose solution I require found her sons and those hands in ecstasy the heroes of high sentence, but I’m old of age, or ugliness, my death deprived of boot or a flowers, and said, but chaste away so soon divide theirs; as free, he seems, the melting hoar-frost wets the daisy- star that matter with fatiguèd eye; and by the night-wind sent. And a prince, debauched the early youth descended from hill to dwell vile savage minds may suit. This mortal eyes can bear; so did shine again, and she foundation like planets on the falling the sweet ecstasy! Yet keep the mirrors.

This is the great controls. Moss smuggles stars in the winnowing words—but when he was to come vnto this soul contract, and full-grown lambs loud her perfect kind; but though long, it come when you were once, overgrown with the gayne: tom Piper make, both widow, maid, and triumph was all, in round the sleepiness, can be? A scent they call him by consent before she holds thee! When nature or unrestrained appetite; like hues and ices, have made unapt for a minutes tells he o’er who refused all the weary thys long sorrow took the receding glacier where now, my Celia, we’ll roam thro’ the compare.

To thee, hold on till the graveyard, lie down on your eyes, sweet joy! —My lady liege, ’ said he, what change of age now. Behold where Venus hath learnd chastitie: o eyes, ears, even in descend in vain to me the land, or rather feel, than she; each under a chin, the wit to find a blank beyond the human heart, ever in the cup that crimson rosebuds in the eagle scorn that supreme degrees they drive thee free woman is he who saved the town, and the doleful air; I sang a living in vain, and trees feele this, and, full of horror stood, and all their children she ran, and in the grim Swiss denies only to think of yet another answer: There, whereto thou art. Multitude conceal’d, where such musickes loue-thought it is not so? And would be any man in the Christless on Nature’s power, and gay. Alone amiss, and sounded, your eyes, And how he shouts a greeting; oh me!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #161 texts #sonnet sequence

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unnursvanablog · 10 months

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The books I read in 2023 / part 1

and what I thought of them...

Lady Susan – Jane Austen: ☆☆☆

An audiobook read; which is actually my favorite way to consume Jane Austen's books. And this book has pretty much everything you'd expect from an Austen book; Ingenious characters and interesting reflections of the society in which the characters live. Austin does a pretty good job at being funny and very concise with her stories, but I still find it more fun to watch than to read her books.

The Priory of the Orange Tree – Samantha Shannon: ☆☆☆☆

A re-read that actually went better than my first readthrough. I actually enjoyed it a lot more this time around. I took my time with it, didn't put any pressure on myself and although Shannon's flowery writing style is not exactly for me, the characters are very interesting and since this is basically a slow character story that's the most important aspect of the book. The twists in the narrative are expertly woven and the worldbuilding is deep and rich so the story stays with me long after reading it.

Dauðaleit – Emil Hjörvar Petersen: ☆☆☆

A fun little mystery/horror, although I personally expected more darkness and gloom from the narrative. I felt that the characters just a bit too much typical Icelandic crime story characters and would have really liked if the author had played a bit more with that format when he mixed the horror with the standard crime story. The story was very fast paced and I would have liked if it stopped a bit more to let the story breath a bit more.

Can't Spell Treason Without Tea, A Pirate's Life for Tea - Rebecca Thorne: ☆☆☆☆, ☆☆☆

If there was a book that bridged the gap between cozy fantasy and more traditional fantasy, it would be this. It’s not necessarily low-stakes enough to be a true cozy read where nothing really bad happens and everyone’s just friends, but it’s also not that action-packed as you might expect from a full-scale fantasy novel. There is a very good balance between the coziness of a good tea and a book and character stories and the action and adventure of traditional fantasy and the characters and the romance are cute.

The second book doesn't quite achieve that balance and there's too much going on so the plot doesn't allow the story to breathe properly for a book of this scale. Everything was a bit rushed and it lacked the build up to many of those character moments and romance that the previous book managed to do so well. An enjoyable read, but nothing more than that.

Legends & Lattes - Travis Baldree: ☆☆☆☆

A very slow character-driven story that focuses primarily on the characters desire to find their place in the world, and manages to answer fantasy readers' question of; 'what happens to my fantasy characters after all their adventures are over'. But despite the low stakes the story is never boring. The world building of the story is a bit lacking and I would have liked more from the world like information about how the magic worked. But still it's not really what this story is about and has no particular effect on the narrative so it's understandable in a sense. There is a comfortable, easy-to-read style to the writing which adds to the cozyness as well.

As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow - Zoulfa Katouh: ☆☆☆

A very grim reality but a hopeful story based on the war in Syria. I found it very difficult to get through this story but I also don’t think it is a story that is supposed to be a pleasant read. I thought it was really beautiful how much hope there was in this story despite the cruelty surrounding the characters without the story becoming to gritty and difficult. But it’s the romance and the prose that drag it down for me. It felt a bit too repetitive.

Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries - Heather Fawcett: ☆☆☆

A cute little story, but I had a really hard time getting into it. This story is very much inspired by Icelandic or nordic folklore about the hidden people, and although I could clearly see that she had immersed herself in the subject to a great extent all these names and place names that were basically just Icelandic without á and ö and did throw me off. It certainly promoted mystique within the story and sounds cool and charming to non-speakers but it took me out of the story personally. Everything else about it was just fine to me but nothing more. Just a fun, cozy read.

The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi - Shannon Chakraborty: ☆☆☆☆

It was such an adventure! This story was so much fun and basically had everything I want in a weird mix of fantasy, historical tales about pirates. There was a good balance between the characters, the darkness of the pirate world and the action and I just flew through it. The story loses steam from time to time because there are a lot of twists going on, but the author always gets the story going again pretty quickly. Chakraborty's style is playful and the historical atmosphere was charming and gently immerses you in the story. The characters were really interesting and nothing came too easily for them, which I enjoyed.

A Magic Steeped in Poison, A Venom Dark and Sweet - Judy I. Lin: ☆☆☆, ☆☆☆

The idea behind these stories is really fascinating but the story never really lived up to it. Everything about them just fell like the same typical YA fantasy I've read before despite it's fun and lavish setting - which I thoroughly enjoyed - but I wanted something a little more. A magic system that revolves around tea? really cool idea, but that's also the coolest thing about this story. Everything else was just fine and a bit predictable.

Dawnshard - Brandon Sanderson: ☆☆

I'm really not that fond of this series by Sanderson. It just doesn't hook me. I feel like the worldbuilding is a little too expansive or excessive at times and Sanderson wants to put too much of it in so it becomes a little too heavy and drags the story down. It overshadows the plot and Sanderson isn't the best at political intrigue in my opinion. And I'm not really attached to these characters despite having read four big books featuring them.

Arch-Conspirator - Veronica Roth: ☆☆☆

A small and light sci-fi novel based on a Greek tragedy. So short that even I could read it in one day, despite how much of a slow a reader I am. This story falls a bit into the same trap as most of Roth's other books I've read do: an interesting idea, but an underdeveloped plot, worldbuilding and narrative that never really manages to shape the story's themes well enough or get much across what Roth really wants to say.

We Hunt the Flame - Hafsah Faizal: ☆☆☆

I have to say I was expecting more after all the praise I've read and heard about the book. It was really a bit too standard or traditional YA fantasy with overly familiar characters and plot. The setting was interesting and fresh, which was inspired by old stories from Arabia, and truly the most interesting part of the story but I wanted the author to use it a bit more to play with the YA format.

The Diary of a Bookseller - Shaun Bythell: ☆☆☆

Books about books are great for any bookworm to read and this one is a really humorous and thoughtful story about what it's like to work in a bookstore. But although the narrative style here is really sarcastic and funny I found the subject of the story a bit too repetitive and few of the characters manage to stand out to me.

#book reviews #book review

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emilydickinson2022 · 1 year

Text

The Emotional Connection

Wild nights - Wild nights!

Wild nights - Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild night should be Our Luxury!

Futile - the winds - To a Heart in port - Done with the Compass - Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden - Ah - the Sea! Might I but moor - tonight - In thee!

-Emily Dickinson

Haliee Steinfeld and Ella Hunt in Dickinson

Episode 3: Wild Nights

Emily is having a dream of being on a ship during a storm. She is calling for Sue as she watches her fall over the edge of the ship. When she wakes, she quotes the first line of the poem: "Wild nights - Wild nights!" and leaves the finished poem for Sue to read (00:18).

Later Emily suggests she and her siblings throw a party, and to her brother's protest, she says "Parties are like shipwrecks. You should emerge from them soaking wet, out of breath, and helplessly disoriented" (3:45). This quote, while in part connected to the dream Emily earlier depicting her fear of losing Sue--and her heart along with her--also hints to orgasm, which we just watched at the end of the last episode during Emily and Susan's sexual encounter.

Then at the party, a literal wild night, and after taking some opium, Susan and Emily kiss in Lavinia's bedroom. The episode as a whole shows Emily Dickinson in a creative light as a poet "who knows how to dream, and party, and play around" (Perlow, 2019).

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sky-limits · 1 year

Text

[twwm] absolution: an apology - polaris

I don’t remember leaving the last chamber of this empty gallery, but I am now somewhere else. Somewhere new, covered in small, glowing mushrooms. This room is engraved, like the last, but moss, small grasses, and daisies and Black-eyed Susans litter the floor, their centers and middles glowing orbs that led up to a large pedestal, casting the rest of the walls away into darkness. In the middle of this open area, there is a pool of water, rippling below the largest of the balls of light, thrumming like the deep strings of a bass guitar after being plucked. There is a high hum to the energy, an expectant breath, a waiting hand, excited to play the music hidden under the waving lazy heads of the flowers.

I don't want to look at the orb immediately, fearing it will show me another vision I do not wish to see. Instead, I pace around the room, peering in the rest of the small, shallow cups of water, seemingly scooped out of the marble floor like it was done with a giant's spoon. The floating light seems to glint in the corner of my vision every now and then, causing me to shake my head and keep walking forward. I don't know why this sense of foreboding fills me near the pedestal, but there are no exits to this room.

The glow flickers in my vision again, and I finally turn to face it - angrily spinning on my heels - as it forms a shape. It's me. I am standing facing my mirrored self, and she is wild and wily and untamed, fierce like summer storms that rocked our home from before.

The lantern swings from the branch on her back as the storm warning light of gales used to swing from the lighthouse on the peninsula, and she steps towards me. Currents flow through her fur and I am utterly terrified, watching the reflection of myself advance, with hate in her eyes and a whipping fury of rip currents pulling at the long tail we both share.

"You left me behind," she growls, and her words flow towards me like a wave of cordial, sickly sweet, sticky and thick and a trap. "You left me alone! You abandoned our purpose!" I suddenly realize what she's talking about - the quest that was doomed from the beginning, finding Skiá and healing ourselves with her help. But there is no Skiá, not anymore. "You are supposed to live on in memory of her! In search for her!" My mimicking double steps towards me, predatory, like an adder coiled to strike. I know she wants to destroy me, with the grief and hate and weary weight of loving someone I needed to let go.

I know she is reflecting the self destruction I have just saved myself from, during my change. Instead of letting her corner me, I lower my head, and lay down. Not in defeat, or surrender, but in peace. "Sit." I say it, and my voice rings. I am no longer discordant, unfounded like a boulder without its niche. I sound strong, and sure.

My mimic sits, by the sheer sureness of my tone.

"You are wrong. You are right," I start, and she seems to seethe righteously. "I did live to find Skiá once, only hoping to be with her again." I meet my match's eye, and hers are full of tears.

Mine stay dry as I continue. "That was all I had, the memory of what we had in the before. There is no life, laying in the grave of a love dead. It took me…too long to learn it. It took me until coming here, remembering the faded out name on the headstone, recalling everything I have always been."

"Just because Skiá is gone from being, and from both of us, does not mean we have to lay down in the coffin with her. I was strong before Skiá, in the bricks of my home. We were strong with her, and after her. We have not changed without her love - we are still us."

My double breathes out softly. Her head slowly lowers to the reflected glowing pool of water below her, and her tears stop. "Are you sure?"

I feel her pain as sharply as the fresh sting of a wound, as the pluck of the violin. "I'm sure. I'm sorry." And I lay my head beside her. "I'm so sorry we lost her. I'm sorry that we did not know how to be without her." She nods. I watch as she looks towards the orb hanging over our heads, and something leaves her.

Like the last notes of the chello fading from the arms of the player, my double faded away, with a murmured "I forgive us."

The light dims, and I am plunged into darkness again, this time alone.

#polaris soulsong prompts #polaris #twwm #those who went missing #esk #esks

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asheslikestardust · 3 years

Text

For Peter, Narnia was soaring towers and summer blue skies. It was the smell of horses and fresh bread and polish and leather. It was the wise murmuring of centaurs, the laughter of dryads, the wild dances of the fauns, the haunting melodies of the naids. It was silken, billowing tents of royal purple and lion gold, the clash of steel on steel, the smoky-sweet smell of a campfire. Narnia was racing through a forest, faster-faster-faster, heart thumping, blood rushing, wild glee bubbling up behind your throat. Narnia was flags flying, lions roaring, the distant beating of drums, the joyous satsifaction of knowing you've won - the image disappears and he's back home but Peter is beaming.

For Susan, Narnia was starry nights and crystal caves. It was tracing unknown constellations Tarva-and-Alambil and charting unknown seas. It was delegations and dignitaries and the grandest of balls and feeling oh so grown up. Narnia was running barefoot through stone corridors, the smell of perfume all jasmine-and-myrtle-and-nighttime-mist, secretive smiles and laughing eyes, a myriad of unexplored chambers, the flickering light of a fiery torch, the fairy-light touch of curling vines on her bare shoulder, the softest of fabrics pooling around her, falling to the floor, emerald green vivid against the warm buttery stone. Narnia was the straining pull of a bow string, the gleaming tips of arrows, the reassuring weight of an ivory horn in its place at her hip. Narnia was wind and winter bringing far-off friends to her doorstep. Narnia was crossing mountains and oceans and visisting exotic lands and learning foreign tongues. Narnia was dancing away the night with her dearest friends, swaying and twirling and spinning-spinning-spinning, the refracted light of the chandeliers scattering broken rainbows like beads- the memory fades and she's back home but Susan is shining.

For Edmund, Narnia was wet earth and dappled sunlight and fresh grass. It was picnics in golden fields, hanging upside down from aging rafters, cool water soothing wounded hands, four well worn coats folded in a trunk. It was obsidian chess pieces and marble chess boards, curling silver and intricate gold crowns, whorling patterns carved into leather saddles, a single lone lantern rising high above the surrounding forest. Narnia was magic and enchantments and making the impossible seem easier than breathing. Narnia was plumes of coloured smoke and sparks of metallic fire and the birth of hope and light. Narnia was ice and snow and an oppressive castle with sharp towers and terrible smiles and cruel whips and loss and loneliness and quiet sorrow Narnia was summer and life and Lucy playing the pianoforte in the evenings and Susan and Peter sparring in the mornings and Edmund buried under stacks of old books from dusk till dawn and Phillip scolding him for not getting enough sleep in one breath and badgering him for apples in the next- the dream is broken and he's back home but Edmund is laughing.

For Lucy, Narnia was a world in a world in a world. It was flying higher and higher and higher on the backs of griffins, and falling down down down to swim with the merfolk and going three rounds at the Battle of Beruna and emerging victorious, hair sweaty, face flushed. Narnia was ruby-red-umbrellas and coal-black-horses and crystal-clear-oceans and bright-joyful-laughter. Narnia was strong, supple boots and flowing white dresses and soft pink flowers caught in riotous golden curls. Narnia was dancing flames and fauns playing flutes and the softest golden fur imaginable. Narnia was home and hope and unconditional love and- the door opens and she's back home but Lucy is smiling.

AO3

#lucy feels so deeply that she can't always put her emotions into words #she and i have that in common lol #queen lucy the valiant #king edmund the just #king peter the magnificent #queen susan the gentle #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #the pevensies #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #narnia headcanon #ao3 #sharing is caring when it comes to writing

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skinnyducky · 3 years

Text

class act // v.h.

requested by @lovesicksofi

a/n this was quite difficult to write. i felt like half the time i was info-dumping and i didn’t want anything to feel redundant or like it was slowing the pace down. however, i tried my best and i think it’s good. i hope this what you were expecting and wanting !

vinnie hacker x plus sized!actress!reader

Word Count: 1544, edited

WARNING: fluff, mentions of death (not real) blood (fake) and stabbing (fake), language, and sadness... i think that’s all.

---------

You were sitting at the makeup chair in your trailer, watching from the mirror as your makeup artist added blood to the corner of your lips. Today was the last day on set for you as your character in your highly anticipated drama film was meeting their demise. It was bittersweet, but after working for a good three months, you were finally happy to get it over with.

Being an actress was something you dreamed of doing. You went from being the sun in your elementary school’s “food chain” play to starring on Broadway in hits like Mean Girls or Wicked. Now, you were hitting the big screen. Though, when people found out about you, as happy as they were to have another talented actress in the business, they had a lot to say about your weight. You were more curvier, more fuller than most of the women in your field, and you faced a lot of criticism for it. No matter how good your acting was, you were always just the “overweight” girl.

At first, those words hurt, and it made you feel as though you wouldn’t make it in the industry. But then, you realized you had been working your ass off to get to where you are today. You damn sure weren’t about to let some snide remarks get in the way of you achieving your dreams. So, you kept pushing and pushing. Now, you had a leading role in a movie, starring alongside Margot Robbie and Brad Pitt.

“I think I need a little bit more pink in the eye.” You said to Andrew, your makeup artist. He rolled his eyes at you and continued to add blush to your cheeks.

“You’re dying, Y/n, not going to the club.”

You shrugged. “Nothing wrong with wanting to look good before I get stabbed.”

“Har, har…now tilt your head.” Andrew sneered, putting on my mascara. “So, where’s Jen? I miss her rants about contracts and stuff.”

“She’s with another client of hers. Something to do with dropping an album or whatever, I don’t know.”

Andrew snickered, screwing the top onto back onto the mascara. “She’s managing music artists too? Isn’t she quite the manager.”

“Tell me about it. I get lucky if she ever she shows me any attention.” You laughed as you pulled out your phone and started scrolling through Instagram. You went through and liked a bunch of pictures until you stopped on a certain person’s photo. A smile plastered itself onto your face as you admired the shirtless shot of your boyfriend, Vinnie.

“Is that the boyfriend I hear so much about?” Andrew grinned.

“That’s him indeed.” You answered with a smile. “His name’s Vinnie.”

You and Vinnie had been together for a good year. You both met at some sleazy influencer party. With you both clinging to wall, clearly not wanting to be there, you two made small talk. You chatted it up about everything: from favorite colors to Elmo, your conversations were wild. At the end of the night when you were getting ready to leave, he asked you for your number—much to your surprise. With glee, you gave it to him and thus led to a beautiful relationship. Of course, there was hate, people questioning what he was doing with you and mocking you because of your weight. But you weren’t focused on that. You had a gorgeous boyfriend and a blossoming career right in front of you. Jealous fans were the least of your worries.

“He’s a cutie, Y/n. You bagged a baddie.” Andrew joked, spritzing some setting spray on his masterpiece. “So, when can I meet him?”

Just before you could respond, the door to your trailer opened. You turned around and shrieked with excitement as your boyfriend wandered in. “I got lost and met Margot Robbie.” He said, causing you and Andrew to laugh. “Hey, babe.”

Vinnie stepped beside you and planted a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, baby!” You squealed. “This is Andrew, my makeup artist.”

You pointed towards the MUA who merely waved at Vinnie before pulling out his phone. “He’s not really social,” you said. “So, what are you doing here? I thought you were doing a sub-a-thon?”

“Well, I was going to, but I decided to come visit you instead.” He replied, moving to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his chin on your head. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Of course, I am. I’m always happy to see you.”

He grinned and went to kiss your lips but before he could Andrew stopped him. “Not on my watch, sir. That took an hour and a half, and I really would like to not spend another one redoing it.”

You snickered, turning to Vinnie. “He takes his work seriously.”

“Duly noted.”

You and Vinnie shared a laugh and talked for a minute before you were called to set. After getting dressed in your tattered dress and fishnets, you left your trailer with Vinnie following behind you. Now, you were standing in the middle of a trashed hotel room with Brad Pitt across from you and Margot Robbie standing a few feet away. Vinnie stood with the crew as your director explained the scene thoroughly to you.

“Ginger”—he pointed at you—“is being attacked by Paul”—he pointed to Brad Pitt—“and Susan is banging on the door to help you, but it’s locked. When she opens it, you’re already dead, got it?”

You and the other two nodded before the director rushed to his seat behind the camera and yelled, “Action!”

Once the camera’s started rolling, it was like a shift for you. No longer were you Y/n, you were your character, inside and out. As Brad’s character, Paul—safely—flung you across the room, Vinnie couldn’t help but feel a little pained. He knew you were acting but seeing it, it hurt him a little. Margot’s screams rang throughout the set as she banged against the door. “Don’t hurt her, Paul!” she cried.

Tossing you onto the floor, Brad stood over you menacingly. “You wanna screw me over, bitch!” He shouted, gripping the straps of your dress as he pulled out the fake pocketknife in his back pocket.

“Please don’t do this, I’ll do anything. Please,” You cried, gripping onto Brad’s wrist. “Don’t, Paul…don’t do this!”

Vinnie gulped back a sob as he watched the scene unfold with tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Why am I acting like this? He thought. This isn’t real. But it felt real, all too real. It no longer felt like he was on movie set, no cameras or crew. To him, you weren’t playing a character, you were still Y/n…and you were being hurt. He couldn’t take it; he wanted to intervene and save you…but he couldn’t…and that broke his heart.

Soon enough, the epic moment came, and Brad plunged the “knife” deep into your abdomen. You let out an ear-piercing scream, sending chills down everyone’s body. Your breathing hitched as blood poured from your partly opened lips. And then…your body went limp.

“CUT!”

And with that, you we’re back to Y/n. The director ran over to you and pulled you up off the floor. “That was fucking amazing, oh my god! I’ve never worked with anyone who could convey that much emotion before!”

“Thank you!” You blushed. The rest of your cast and crew members flocked around you, complimenting you on your incredible performance. However, as you looked around, you noticed a specific someone missing from the small crowd. As you humbly accepted everyone’s praise, you said your goodbyes and went to search for you boyfriend around the set. When you didn’t find him, you headed back to your trailer. Before you opened the door, you heard the sound of soft cries. With furrowed brows, you walked into the trailer and there was your boyfriend, crying into a pillow on your couch.

“Vinnie? What’s wrong?” You cooed as you sat next to him and rubbed circles on his back.

He shook his head, keeping quiet. “Vinnie, just tell me. I’m not gonna judge you or anything.” You said.

“All of that…I know it was fake and it was just acting, but it felt so real. Seeing you just…die, it hurt me, y’know? I don’t know if it’s because you’re fucking good at what you do or if it’s just boyfriend instincts but, seeing that and knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop it…it was painful.”

“Oh, Vinnie.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m still here, babe. I’m alive, okay? Nothing actually happened to me.”

He nodded into your chest. “I know, but it was too real. I just had to leave.”

“And I understand. Had I known you were planning on coming, I would’ve warned you ahead of time. I didn’t know seeing me acting out a death scene was going to leave you like this. I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s just me being worried over you.”

You smiled, “Well, you have nothing to be worried about.” You placed a kiss on top of head and started to stroke his hair.

“I’m safe.”

“And a damn good actress.” Vinnie added.

“That too.”

#vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker

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ithinkthereforeidread · 3 years

Text

the collected poems of todd anderson

christmas day of 1959.

ao3 link here

He knew this day would come. He’s been dreading it, sure, he’d never really enjoyed Christmas much beforehand, his multiple unopened desk sets epitomised such. At his house, fires weren’t warm, hugs were stiff and silence was punctured by the sounds of laughing children in the house next door. It’d always been this way for the Anderson family. Todd grew to accept it.

But this year was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to spend his Christmas at Welton, with all the Dead Poets.

Usually, the boys would go home to their families for Christmas, but through the efforts of Neil he assembled a complex string of falsities about a gargantuan Latin group project that all the Dead Poets needed to finish.

“Serious business, I care about my education father, why else would have you sent me here?” said Neil over the phone, holding his index finger to his mouth to silence Todd from his chuckling, although all Todd really saw was the wide grin that hid behind it, and the way Neil’s eyes crinkled up all the way, a complete oxymoronic action when Neil was usually on the phone to his father. Todd stifles back laughter and Neil smacks him lightly, only causing him to laugh more.

“Well, that was quicker AND easier than I expected...” Neil states after placing the phone back on it’s cradle and ending the call. “But hey!” Neil squeaks, “We’re all spending Christmas together! The biggest concern was just getting my father to agree, everyone else’s parents seemed fine with it.”

Todd and Neil start to walk, side by side, Neil bumps him playfully. “I’m so glad you told me, Todd.” Neil turns his head and looks towards the shorter boy. “My Christmases at home aren’t that great either, I’ve always wanted to spend them here, but I could never work up the courage to ask my father, ask Charlie, in our first year he almost called up my father himself. It was hilarious, he had to look up at the phone, he was so short.”

“You and Charlie have been friends for ages then?” Todd queries “Oh yeah, we met in our last year of preparatory school, he was a pretty mischievous kid, obviously not much has changed.” Neil laughs, “he was just always so confident and sure of himself… I always wanted to be like that, nothing ever got to him.”

“Has that changed?” Todd’s questions were always short and straight to the point. Startling upfrontness in the most unexpected of moments. It was something Todd was known for.

“Not really… I mean, I try to get him to open up… he just isn’t an emotions type of person, I think?” Neil scratches the back of his head. “During our 9th year he went through something really big and not great, but he didn’t tell me a single word about it. To this day I have no idea wahat happened. I tried asking but it didn’t lead anywhere… all I know is some kid had been expelled but it didn’t look like him and Charlie fought or anything because they spent so much time together ....” Neil trails off.

“You know people stare at us sometimes.” Todd blankly states, an unconscious switch being flicked immediately. “When we’re walking to classes, when we go into our dorm, when we exchange smiles in classes… They bump their friends with their shoulders and snicker under their breaths… Have you noticed that Neil?”

Neil’s walking pace slows slightly, “Uh… no, I-uh I didn’t… Do they think we’re-“ “-Maybe.” Todd interrupts before Neil can say The Word. “Bu-but we aren’t, I mean, you were talking about that girl from-“ “-Yeah! Ginny, from the play, wow, I mean, she’s just great.” “Yeah, I’m sure she is.”

God.

This got awkward.

Nice one Todd.

Did it again.

Ink splatters dried on the paper he cradled so delicately, he stares at the contents once more.

“what wouldn't i give to love myself as feverishly as I love you? what is the opposite of amnesia? that is what you are. sometimes i cant find my way around my memories. i have to take detours… i think you were the best one.

little fragments of joy pepper my vacancy i didn't know that i should want to be hopeful or that being hopeful meant giving up some intrinsic part of me.

last night i had a dream that we were breathing underwater flying high in the sky, arms outstretched, laughing, smiling, hugging, bodies pressed onto one another. it didn’t last long. piece by wretched, fragile piece i throw out every hated qualm of thee your impenetrable stare fixed onto me

i have hoped for love that is beyond you being caught by me or me trying to slip through the cracks. they read me, you, us, with their glacial eyes and think they know but they don't

and it seems neither do we.”

“Wow, Todd. This is so… different. But good! It’s just, I’ve never seen anything like this in our English class, in the poems we’ve studied… I just… wow.” Neil looks up at Todd, eyes so soft, Neil knows how big of a deal this is to Todd. He doesn’t just share his work with anyone.

“I-I’m glad you liked it.” Todd smiles, it’s almost as if he’s had to completely remove himself from himself in order to let Neil observe and compliment this part of him, he takes the page out of Neil’s hands and places it in his book. “What-er, who was it about?” Neil gingerly queries. “I- uh, well.” Todd’s heating up now, he should’ve expected Neil to ask him this question. Dammit. Why was he so stupid for letting him read it. “Well, I-I don’t think you necessarily have to go through something to write a-about it, it-it’s fiction for a reason.”

Neil’s lips downturn slightly, “I guess, but everything that we produce in art- whether that be acting, or poetry writing, painting- whatever… it… subconsciously shows something that you might not necessarily want to show or see, right? Like how Keating got us the other day to choose a poem we liked and recite it… It tells you so much about a person. When Charlie was reading his poem… wasn't all you could think about was how bleak it was?” Neil continues, “The academically and poetically rigorous selection made by Cameron or Knox’s complete devotion and enamoration with the simplest emotion of the human being, love? We hide these parts of ourselves, maybe we view them as flaws and faults of our cognitive machine, but art reveals them all.” Neil delivered a love poem to the class himself. He takes a big breath and lets the words he just spoke sit in the air of their dorm for a while.

“Into the meadows dawn..” Todd clicks his fingers, a vague ritual to jog his memory. “flashes my faun.” Todd recites “O Hunter, snare me his shadow… O Nightingale catch me his strain. Else moonstruck with music and madness, I track him in vain” all they’re doing is staring at each other.

“You- you remembered my poem?” Neil questions. “Yeah- I went to the library after you said it- wanted to see if there was more… Oscar Wilde…” “Yeah.” “I notice them staring now that you mentioned it.” Neil breaks the trajectory of the conversation, “God, they’re all so stupid, it’s as if Judy Garland and President Eisenhower just strutted into the school, arms interlocked!” Todd chuckles. Then more silence.

“Has anything changed, Neil?” “What do you mean?” “Between us. What this is. Our comradely bond, as Keating puts it.” Todd chuckles, “ Our co-dependence, attachment at the hip.”

More silence…

“I-I think…” Neil finally states, “that it was never anything it wasn’t already… perhaps we ignored it, suppressed the feeling… but… it was always there.”

“For me, at least.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

~~~

The wind pierced Todd’s skin in tiny microscopic ways, embedding itself under the protection of his coat and completely evading the rest of his physical form, though perhaps the wind wasn’t the cause of the spine-curdling ache he felt, but simply an additional symptom.

Bells rang, green and red Christmas themed paraphernalia adorned the streets he’d previously been driving through, staring out the window at lights and snow that trickled onto an already naturally bleached layer of the ground. His footprints leave indents and obtain a slippery consistency to the outer sole and toe cap. He treads more carefully.

His hands clutch the leather cover of the journal he is hiding underneath his jacket, minimising any further damage that may soon come its way, finally, through minutes of soul-searching and carefully treading through stones and flowers, he makes his way to Neil.

He looks at him with a certain sense of fragility, his stone head protruding from the ground and covered in snow. Todd wipes some away to see the carvings made into him. His full name. Aged 17. Dutiful son of Tom and Susan Perry.

The newness of it all sends a pang to Todd’s stomach as he looks at the other stones weathered with age and the constant bombardment of the elements. That’ll be Neil one day. Flowers not fresh and carvings unreadable. Forgotten to the world and all its inhabitants, rotting in satin lining and cherry oak wood. Todd stifles back a sob and covers his mouth, forcing himself to get it together for just this moment.

“Merry Christmas Neil.” Todd whispers, the words can barely come out. “You-you’re not here physically but you’re here with me, and Charlie, and-and all the other Dead Poets.” he continues, “though- though Charlie isn’t here technically either. He left. Had to. He’s not graduating, at least he’s not at Welton” Todd looks down, brushes his emerging tears away with his shoulder

“I just wanted to come here and give you your gift, I’ve had it in the making for a while now, you’ve seen some of it already. I wish I could’ve given it to you earlier… if I had known this would happen.” he pulls out the journal, and opens it up.

“Here, I’ll read you some.” Todd, though already cold and miserable, situates himself next to Neil’s cold headstone and leans his head on it, opening the journal's contents to its first page.

“Dear Neil,” Todd’s starts, but adds an offside, “It’s dated on the 7th of a while back, my-my birthday.”

“I hope this book finds you well,” Todd’s breath hitches, “especially considering that I’m probably too anxious to deliver it to you. What you’ll see here is what we spoke about the night we first kissed. About freeing ourselves from any subconscious fear or dichotomous dread of both working with and against the grain or being liked or disliked. The people I look up to the most are inspirationally unpopular. So, here’s a suite of poems by yours truly. Hopefully you’ll find your own meaning and reverence in the words my brain has conjured up, words mostly pertaining to you. Every inch of your being alive has me transfixed and enamoured, and I’m truly gobsmacked on the good deed I must’ve committed to have deserved having you in my life.” Todd’s face is red and stuffy from the cold and his breathing is short and punctured.

“You’re sleeping right near me at this moment, and as a sweaty toothed madman once said. We were together. I forgot the rest. Consider this journal a detachable limb of my own self, something you can always carry around and know that I am with you, always. You can suck the life force, the bone marrow out of the words I have written in here and I would applaud and encourage you to do so. Without you, I have no idea where I’d be right now. I owe you so much Neil, you’ve taught me that sometimes the world can be good. That a person’s smile can brighten an entire room. A performance perfectly acted can be a person’s ultimate achievement and their triumph. You are the word phenomenal incarnate Neil, I hope my words do you some sort of justice.

You deserve the world, Neil. I’m brainstorming ways to give it to you.

With love, Todd.”

——————————————————————————

i hope you guys enjoyed!! its fucking brutal honestly but needed some angst and tragedy in my fictional life to reflect my own.

just a preface that some of the poem todd read's is borrowed from pete wentz old emo livejournal posts because i need to somehow tie my two big interests together and MAN does that man write some gay ass shit. hope your heart doesnt hurt too much <3

creds to @neilscrown on tiktok for posting the headcanon "Todd definitely bought Neil a Christmas present and he never got the chance to give it to him so he would sit in his once shared room and stare at it" it tore my HEART OUT and inspired this rambling

#dead poets society #dead poets #dead poets honour #dead poets fanfiction #anderperry #anderperry fanfic #todd anderson #neil perry #todd and neil

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

Note

Steve gets a massive dildo as a joke gift from Billy, but then he invites him to watch as Steve tries to fit it inside :3c Not sure if Steve gives up halfway through and lets Billy fuck his ass open and then uses the dildo on him afterwards. Or if he succeeds and comes on the dildo as Billy fucks it in and out of him, just to have Billy use his lube-filled, stretched out hole as 'sloppy seconds' >:3c

“Bill, oh my God.”

The toy was heavy in Steve’s hand, so huge he couldn’t wrap his hand entirely around it.

Billy was grinning at him.

“Happy Birthday, Sweet Thing.”

“Is this a fucking joke?” It had to be. Sure, there were both into playing around with Steve’s hole. Stretching him open and stuffing him full. But this is just a whole other level.

The toy was nearly as long as Steve’s forearm, and just massive. Jet black silicone with all kinds of ridges and bumps along the shaft.

“What, you doubtin’ your own talents? Don’t think you can take it?” But Billy’s eyes were crinkled in a smile that meant he was joking. That he probably found this monster and laughed at it in public for ten minutes straight before buying it with a smile on his face.

Steve reached up and whacked Billy’s shoulder with the toy. It made a pleasing thump against it.

“You’re an ass. I’m expecting a real gift.”

Turns out the real gift was a surprisingly thoughtful box with some of Billy’s t-shirts, some truly god-awful poetry he had written about Steve his first week at Hawkins High, and a book on tape Billy had recorded himself of his favorite he kept trying to get Steve to read, Giovanni’s Room.

It was all sweet, and intimate, even with the new set of reasonably sized anal beads tucked in the box as well.

And it made Steve forget about the monstrous black dildo.

Until he was laying in bed that night, nothing but one of Billy’s shirts he had just gifted him on, Billy himself spooned tightly against Steve’s back, he didn’t think of the dildo standing on it’s base next to the coffee table downstairs.

And he got a tiny little idea. Something that probably wouldn’t even work.

But, he can always try.

Billy never gave too many shits about his birthday. And this year was going to be mo different.

He’d probably head over to Steve;s for the weekend, watch shitty movies that Steve loves far too much and eat all his snacks. Just like every other weekend.

But then his dad sat him down. Said he was taking Susan out of town, out of state, all the way down to Oklahoma to visit her brother. They’ll be leaving Friday morning and won’t return until Tuesday night. Billy’s in charge and they expect him to be on his best behavior.

He felt actual, genuine, excitement inside for his stupid birthday in what was probably years.

Andhe explained everything to Steve in a hushed tone over the phone that same night, told him to come over Friday after school, and expect not to leave Billy’s bed all weekend.

And that little tiny idea Steve had had since his own birthday popped back into his head.

“Close your eyes.”

Billy could hear rustling, Steve digging something out of his bag, hopefully ditching his clothes while he was at it too, before the bed shifted, settling under Steve’s weight.

There was more shifting, the unmistakable sound of a bottle of lube opening, slick globs of it dripping sloppily onto something.

“Open them.”

Billy nearly choked at the sight before him.

Steve just smiled coyly.

“Happy birthday.”

He was kneeling on the opposite end of the bed, wearing nothing but those fucking white socks that went all the way up to his thighs and drove Billy absolutely wild.

He was already hard, the tip of his dick flushed the same dark pink as Steve’s cheeks.

He was working copious amounts of lube of the massive dildo Billy had bought him as a fucking joke, making demure eye contact with Billy as he pumped his hand up and down, twisting his wrist like he was jacking the thing off, not just getting it slick.

“I skipped my last three periods to get myself ready for this thing. Edged myself the whole time. Took a few pictures too. You’ll be seeing those later.” The lube squelched as Steve kept stroking the huge fake cock. “How do you want me?”

“Steve, Christ. Are you, are you seriously gonna try and take that thing?”

“Thought it’d be a nice treat for you. Watch me see if I can take it. Maybe you can help me out. Hold me down and force it in if I give up.”

And this isn’t shit they did very often. The kinda sex that needs thorough discussion and safe words, and shit. But, fuck if it wasn’t some of the best sex Billy’s ever had.

All Billy could do was palm himself through his jeans, try to relieve some of the pressure of his rock hard dick straining against his fly.

“Then turn around. Wanna see your greedy hole split open for that thing.”

Steve did as he was told, a glint in his eye and a tiny little smile on his face.

He turned until he was facing the edge of the bed, his back to Billy, and he leaned forward, spreading his cheeks open with one hand.

His hole was already well-used. Covered in lube and deliciously slick looking. Pink and a little puffy, the way it looked when Billy’d been a little too over-zealous with Steve that night. But it was gaped as open as Billy’s ever seen it, fluttering and clenching around nothing.

And Billy’s seen Steve take some toys he thought were gonna be a struggle in one graceful motion.

But this thing was big.

And Steve Steve sat back up and positioned the toy so the base would be held steady by his own ankles, Billy really didn’t know if it would fit.

“You say the word and we’ll stop, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Steve turned to look over his shoulder.

“I got this.”

And he lined up the tip of the toy, and pressed it inside.

The stretch was immediate.

Steve had fingered himself silly and taken a ride on just about every toy he owned, but this thing was on it’s own level. It burned as it opened him up, the pressure building so quickly Steve had to stop and take a few breaths with barely any of the toy inside.

He relaxed himself as much as he could, and when the initial discomfort dissipated, he sank down a few inches onto the toy.

It flared quickly, and the stretch was was back, splitting him open and causing him to ache.

“Fuck, Billy, this thing is huge.”

“Yeah, that’s why it was a goddamn joke gift.”

“You shouldn’t give me sex toys if you don’t want me to use them.”

“Right, sorry. I forgot you’re an insatiable slut.”

Steve turned to look over his shoulder, winking at Billy before taking a deep breath, and sinking down just a bit more.

He tossed his head back, letting out a long moan.

Billy was ridiculously hard. Ridiculously painfully hard.

“It’s so fucking deep.” He’d barely taken half of it and it felt like the thing was already in his throat. “I bet you’ll be able to see it bulging in my stomach.”

“Baby, don’t tease me like that. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Hurt me yourself.” Steve lifted up a bit on his knees, swaying his back slightly more, and pushed himself further down on the dildo.

He slid nearly three-quarters of the way down, bracing his hands on his knees.

“I-fuck. I can’t do it. I can’t take anymore.”

He was breathing heavily, his legs shaking.

It burned, his hole stretching more than it ever had around a toy. The tip of it was deep in him, making him feel like it was scrambling his guts.

The bed shifted, and Billy was pressed to his back, his cock rigid and pressing through his jeans against Steve’s ass.

“Lift up for me, Sugar.”

He pressed his hands under Steve’s ass cheeks, just above where the white socks rested on his thighs, cutting in and giving him a little roll above them, helping him push up and off the toy.

And Steve felt so fucking empty, he nearly whined.

“I think you just need a little more help.” He squirted out more lube, coating his fingers.

He pushed all four into him, his knuckles sliding in as well.

“Fuck, Stevie, you’re gaping.”

“It’s so big,” Steve whined dramatically. He knows what Billy likes, and he’s not above putting on a bit of a show for him.

Billy curled his fingers around, pumping them in and out of Steve’s stretched out hole, lube sliding down his arm and dripping onto the bed. It was so gross and hot.

“God, Bill. It feels so fucking good. Love your fingers.”

“I know you do, Sugar. You’re so pretty.”

Steve relaxed against him, leaning his head back to rest it on Billy’s shoulder, pressing sloppy kisses to his cheek.

“Such a perfect gift. Watching you fall apart on this huge thing. You’re going to be so loose when I finally fuck you.”

And at that he took his fingers out, replacing his hand with the thick toy, his hands settling on Steve’s waist.

And he began to push Steve down onto the toy, slowly letting it split him open.

He got him back to where he was before, nearly to the base of the toy, and let him rest for a moment.

He let Steve take a shaky breath, and pressed.

Steve cried out as he sat all the way down on the dildo, laying back against Billy, breathing hard with his eyes closed.

“Oh, fuck, Billy. It’s so fucking big, I-God,” he babbled, his chest heaving.

“You gonna ride it? Fuck yourself with the big cock in your ass? Or can you even move? Are you so stuffed full you’re stuck right here?”

And Steve’s thighs tensed, trying his best to rise up on the dildo, Billy reaching down to keep the base where it was.

He whined as it barely slid out of him, collapsing back down.

“Billy, I can’t move.” And God, Billy so wanted him to start crying. He already sounded like he could, like the burning pleasure of the toy was beginning to make his brain go cloudy and the sensations overwhelming.

Billy took an east step off the bed, leaving Steve straining to hold himself upright, staring at Billy with panic in his big eye.

“Don’t worry, Baby. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Billy just pushed Steve backwards, making him yelp as he landed on his back against the pillows, the toy stuffed deep in his ass, shifting inside of him and making him writhe. “Jus’ wanted a better view.”

Billy kneeled carefully on the bed between Steve’s legs, taking his time to press a kiss to the soft skin on the inside of each of Steve’s knees, feeling the soft long socks, his gorgeous fat thighs stretching the band tight.

He placed on of those long legs over his shoulder, spreading Steve open enough to take in the massive toy keeping him nice and open.

And he wrapped his fingers around the base, and pulled.

Steve all but screamed as the toy slid out of him, the notches and grooves along the shaft making him squirm.

Billy stopped when just the tip was left inside Steve, gave him a second to catch his breath, and pushed.

Steve’s eyes flew open, and his back arched off the bed, his legs fucking shaking around Billy as he came, spunk covering his stomach and chest, some of it even reaching his chin. He grabbed Billy’s forearm, blunt nails digging into his skin.

And then it stopped, Steve going limp against the pillows, taking a few deep breaths with his eyes closed.

Billy loved watching him cum. It was a fucking show, mewling noises and muscles rolling under perfect skin. He’s so beautiful.

Dark eyes fluttered open, cheeks pink and hair messy on Billy’s pillow.

“How you doin’?” Billy grinned down at Steve.

“I’m exhausted.”

Billy pressed another kiss to the inside of Steve’s knee, gripping the base of the dildo, and pulling it out.

Steve whined, his hands re-curling around Billy’s arms.

The toy popped out of him with a squelch of lube.

And what a sight.

He was gaped open, his hole red and covered in lube, twitching slightly and empty.

Billy couldn’t get his jeans open fast enough.

He yanked down his fly, pulling out his stiff cock, an immediately pushing into Steve.

He was so fucking loose, and he whined again as Billy pushed into him.

“Billy,” Steve drew out the word into as many syllables as possible. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, but it’s my birthday. And I haven’t gotten off yet. Now tighten the fuck up. You’re so fucking open. Can’t even feel anything.”

Steve pouted up at him.

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that? Because I’m pretty sure you’re the one that shoved that thing in me.”

“It was your idea-”

“You bought it.”

Billy sat back on his heels to look down at Steve.

“Whatever. Just, you know. Gimme a little more to work with.”

Steve huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically, melting further into the pillows behind him as Billy fucked back into him.

He clenched around Billy, still glaring down at him.

“That’s it, Sugar. I’m close already, just let me use your sloppy little hole,” he panted, already fucking Steve with a brisk pace.

Watching Steve had gotten him all pent up, and he just needed a little friction to push him over the edge.

And then Steve shifted, titling his hips up, letting Billy get deeper than before, and tightened up as much as he could.

Billy groaned, burying his face in Steve’s neck. He bucked his hips a few times, and spilled inside Steve, adding to to the mess inside him.

He rolled off of Steve, wiggling out of his jeans and tossing them on the floor.

Steve looked ready to fall asleep, and Billy manhandled him around to tug the blanket over them both.

“Bill, I gotta go get cleaned up.” His voice was muffled, his face smooshed against the pillow, Billy draped against his back.

“Here, just let me,” he trailed one hand down, skimming the pads of his fingers over Steve’s side, and pressing three fingers inside of him, “make sure you don’t get my bed all messy.”

“Hope you enjoyed your birthday gift, because I’m never doing this again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love being gaped like that.”

Steve just muttered incoherently, burying his face into Billy’s pillow.

“That’s what I thought.”

#lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #yikes writes

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tcm · 3 years

Text

Doris Day Was Far More Than Virginal By Susan King

Oscar Levant once quipped: “I knew Doris Day before she was a virgin.”

The actor-composer-pianist-writer starred with Day in her first film, ROMANCE ON THE HIGH SEAS (‘48), in which she played a bubbly singer. And it is true that she played 30-something-year-old virgins beginning with PILLOW TALK (‘59), the first film she made with Rock Hudson. But Levant’s comment diminishes the former band singer’s accomplishments as an actress and ignores the fact that her characters were quite modern and progressive. In fact, you could call her an early feminist.

During her “Golden Age,” which I define as between LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME (‘55) and SEND ME NO FLOWERS (‘64), she played successful career women at a time when there weren’t that many being portrayed on screen. In the George Abbott-Stanley Donen cotton candy-colored musical THE PAJAMA GAME (‘57), she’s a worker in a pajama factory, a member of the union leadership who doesn’t take any guff from her bosses. In the delightful romantic comedy TEACHER’S PET (‘58), she’s a successful journalist and college professor; in PILLOW TALK, a flourishing interior decorator; and two years later in LOVER COME BACK (‘61), she goes toe to toe with Hudson as a rival Madison Avenue ad executive. And, in the often-neglected comedy IT HAPPENED TO JANE (‘59), she’s a widowed mother of two who takes on the meaner-than-mean head of a railroad (Ernie Kovacs) when the company causes the death of 300 lobsters she was shipping.

Day’s characters were also incredibly feisty. In PILLOW TALK, the only film for which she received a Best Actress Oscar nomination, she learns that the man she’s fallen for, the shy handsome Texas Rex Stetson, is actually the womanizing composer she shares her party phone line with, so she redesigns his apartment into a gaudy mess reflecting his lothario ways. Speaking of lothario, Day’s leading men often played long-term bachelors-serial daters, like Clark Gable in TEACHER’S PET and Cary Grant in THAT TOUCH OF MINK (‘62). Her characters fall in love with them but won’t become their latest conquests. It’s actually the men who succumb to her charms and give up their womanizing ways when they fall in love with her.

Still, the virgin quote harmed her legacy. “People don’t take her seriously,” said former L.A. Times film critic Kenneth Turan in 2012. “It was a lifetime battle for Marilyn Monroe to be taken seriously; that was a battle she won. Audrey Hepburn was taken seriously. People are reluctant to take Doris Day seriously. It’s too bad.” Cari Beauchamp, a film historian and writer who specializes in the history of women in film, told me in 2012 that when she talks to people about Day “they tend to say she played the girl next door. And you look at her movies, particularly at the time of those films and she wasn’t the girl next door. She always had a backbone.”

Day was a popular singer with Les Brown and His Band of Renown, scoring her first No. 1 in 1945 with “Sentimental Journey.” Hollywood soon came knocking on her door, and she answered in the Warner Bros.’ Technicolor musical ROMANCE ON THE HIGH SEAS, directed by Michael Curtiz, in which she introduced the Best Song Oscar nominee “It’s Magic.” Not only was she adorable and a breath of fresh air, Day seemed totally at ease in her big screen bow.

“I wanted to be in films,” she told me in 2012. “I wasn’t nervous. I just felt ‘I’m here. I am supposed to be doing this.’ I was so lucky to have such terrific actors and directors. Everything was different and everything to me was great.”

Her films at Warner Brothers were a mixed bag. She got to demonstrate her dramatic chops reuniting with Curtiz for YOUNG MAN WITH A HORN (‘50), starring Lauren Bacall and Kirk Douglas. And I also loved the Booth Tarkington-inspired musical comedies ON MOONLIGHT BAY (‘51) and BY THE LIGHT OF THE SILVERY MOON (‘53). Turan loves her musical-comedy CALAMITY JANE (‘53), in which she has a field day as the famed Wild West heroine, because “her energy is kind of irrepressible.” Day also introduced the Oscar-winning song, “Secret Love” in the freewheeling classic.

But she really came into her own when she went to MGM to do the musical drama LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME, in which she gave a tour de force performance as torch singer Ruth Etting, who has a particularly volatile marriage to a gangster (James Cagney). But she was totally ignored by the Academy and the Golden Globes. The film was nominated for six Oscars, winning for Best Motion Picture Story, with only Cagney, brilliant as Marty “the Gimp” Snyder, getting nominated for his performance.

Turan described LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME as a “provocative film. It almost defines a kind of thing that you would say: Doris Day would never do something like that. But when we say that we are thinking of the cliché Doris Day, not thinking of the actual actress who made interesting choices and interesting films.” Day also counted the hit, directed by Charles Vidor, as a career highlight. “I really loved working with Jim,” she said of Cagney, who had previously appeared with her in the disappointing THE WEST POINT STORY (‘50). “The wonderful thing is that when you have someone like him to play opposite, it’s very exciting. You just feel so much from a man like that.”

She didn’t do research into Etting’s life but went by the script and “just how I felt and what I listened to. You react. It was so well-written. It just comes out of you. I don’t know how to explain it.” But it probably wasn’t hard. Like Etting, who endured abuse at the hands of her husband, the four-time married Day was mercilessly beaten by her one husband, musician Al Jordan, the father of her only child, Terry Melcher.

Mastering drama and musicals, Day was also a fabulous comedian. Just look at her expression when Gable, as a seasoned newspaper editor, kisses her for the first time in TEACHER’S PET. She crosses her eyes and is literally weak in the knees. Or when she realizes in THAT TOUCH OF MINK that Grant wants her to share his bed when they go to a resort. It’s brilliant. And of course, she and Hudson had a chemistry few actors get to share on screen. Ironically, Day admitted she didn’t know who Hudson was when they were cast together in PILLOW TALK, even though he had been a major star for most of that decade and earned an Oscar nomination for GIANT (‘56). “Isn’t that amazing?,” she said laughing. “I thought he was just starting out. I didn’t know about the films he had made. I just loved working with him. We laughed and laughed.”

The quality of her films declined after SEND ME NO FLOWERS. Her third husband and manager, Marty Melcher, put her in poorly received comedies such as DO NOT DISTURB (‘65) and CAPRICE (‘67). He squandered her money and signed her up to do the CBS sitcom The Doris Day Show without her knowledge before his death in 1968. The series ran from 1968 to 1973.

After the series, Day went to Carmel, co-owned a pet friendly hotel there and concentrated on animal welfare. In 1985-86, she did the pet-forward TV talk show Doris Day and Friends, best remembered for guest Rock Hudson, who was suffering from AIDS. She admitted Hollywood never lured her out of retirement. “No one really said that – ‘Oh, come back.’ I was just here.’”

#Doris Day #feminism #female sexuality #musicals #comedy #James Cagney #Rock Hudson #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #Susan King

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ttuesday · 3 years

Note

Since it’s getting close to summer, what u think are the VDL gang’s favorite ice cream flavors?

~~I had some fun with these so some are kinda believable and others are just bonkers. The length of each varies a lot too~~

Arthur

I think a lot of the time Arthur would just get whatever flavour the majority of people are getting, so he rarely gets his favourite.

but whenever he does get the chance to buy his favourite, I think he'd go with blueberry ice cream.

Dutch

I don't know what flavour of ice cream Dutch loves the most but I am absolutely c o n v i n c e d he'd get whatever ice cream that contains nuts.

Does Dutch have a nut allergy? No. Do I believe Dutch would pretend to have a nut allergy because this man needs to be the centre of attention 24/7 and has no morals? Yeah, pretty much

Everyone knows Dutch isn't allergic to nuts, they've seen him eat nuts before and he had no reaction to it then. Yet everyone plays along with it and pretends to be concerned. Of course Hosea ends up buying him more ice cream afterwards and yes, it would probably be mango flavoured

John

John loves ice cream. If he hears that there's ice cream nearby, then he will literally sprint as fast as he can to it, pushing everyone out of his way as he runs

John is definitely a raspberry ripple man, and it has to be the kind where it's 98% vanilla with just a little bit of raspberry sprinkled throughout

Unfortunately John gets wayyyyy too excited and always gets a brain freeze

Hosea

Hosea's favourite flavour is salted caramel and I'm convinced he'd be reminiscing the entire time he's eating it, thinking back to a time he had ice cream with Bessie

Javier

he’s an ice cream connoisseur

he doesn’t just want ice cream, Javier wants one of those banana split things with at least 10 cherries, 3 bananas, however many syrups he can find and flakes of chocolate on top.

if he can’t have that then he really likes chocolate fudge ice cream too

Pearson

stew flavoured ice cream

Bill

no ice cream flavour can satisfy Bill, so he buys about 5 different flavours and starts mixing them together to create the perfect flavour

by the time he makes his perfect flavour, the ice cream’s completely melted and now it’s just liquid. But he still goes around asking people if they want to try his cream (he didn’t think he could still call it ice cream considering it wasn’t even cold anymore so Bill decided to just call it cream)

a lot of people didn’t think Bill was referring to his ice cream concoction and Karen gave him a slap across the face when he asked her if she wanted to try his cream

Sadie

Sadie doesn’t have time for ice cream. The only thing she needs is the blood of her enemies across the blade of her knife

...but she also likes Strawberry ice cream

Lenny

listen, please don’t block me for this but I really think Lenny would just like vanilla ice cream

it’s the most basic flavour but it’s also underrated. It’s everything you could ask for in an ice cream without being too overpowering

Charles

Charles would say he doesn’t have a favourite ice cream flavour cause he doesn’t eat a lot of desserts but my god, the second he sees the wild berry flavour he knows he has to try it

it’s amazing, he loves it, it’s all he wants to eat (and he’s completely right, wild berry flavoured ice cream is superior and this confirms that Charles has amazing taste)

Susan

coffee flavour, don't @ me

Karen

her favourite flavour is chocolate BUT it has to have little marshmallows in the ice cream too

the marshmallow in the ice cream get really cold and they’re like little chewy explosions of sweet, cold joy when she bites into them. Very yum

Sean

Sean really likes mint chocolate chip ice cream because ‘mint’ is in the title and he thinks it’ll also work as some sort of mouthwash

because of this, Sean always thinks his breath is minty fresh after he eats ice cream

Micah

Micah would say he doesn’t like ice cream but then he’d get some cookie dough ice cream and sneak off to enjoy it in peace

Uncle <3

he loves any ice cream that’s lemony but it’s never sour enough so he adds a slice of lemon in with it... ew

#pls don't take these seriously #feel like I need to make an apology vid for Bill after this #I did as many ppl as I could lmao #these are so so cursed I’m sorry #anon #headcanons I guess #writings #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #john marston #javier escuella #bill williamson #hosea matthews

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psychdelia · 3 years

Text

season 3 but instead of billy, neil was flayed.

he had been acting... off the last couple of weeks. distant and withdrawn, completely the opposite of how he usually is with billy.

he first notices the difference in behavior when the abuse stops. maybe he gets home late for dinner and instead of the usual stern look he gets before a smack when max and susan go to bed, neil just smiles all big and wide, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before he welcomes his son home.

then neil starts coming home later and later, giving susan some bullshit excuse about work and overtime and she eats it right up. chooses to believe that he’s somehow morphed into the perfect husband and father overnight. on top of that, he smells like bleach and chemicals and his eyes seem so dead. billy can tell what the guy is thinking or feeling through one look at his expression, but now he’s just eerily blank.

so billy follows him on 4th of july, surprised to find himself in the starcourt parking lot for the second time that day - he dropped max off earlier to hang out with her shithead friends, but it’s past closing hours so she shouldn’t still be inside unless she’s at the movies, the only part of the mall that remains open late. he watches as neil marches into the mall, fists clenched at his side. billy has no idea why neil is even at the mall so late when he should be at work or wherever he’s been going and lying to susan about. so, he follows him in.

he doesn’t know what to expect, but seeing his little sister and her gaggle of friends screaming as neil gets closer and closer to them. squinting, billy can see black veins crawling their way up neil’s neck, discoloring his face and eyes. he jumps when he hears the first bang, the sound of a firework exploding way too close for comfort.

then he spots it. the huge slimey alien being that screeches when the first firework hits it, then second, third, and so on.

and like. what the fuck.

his eyes must be as wide as saucers as he stares at the thing, gangly and screeching with every hit, trying to swing at anyone it can reach. he doesn’t have time to process what the actual fuck he’s looking at when he hears someone yell his name. max.

“billy! BILLY!” she screams, absolutely terrified. “DO SOMETHING!” she demands.

immediately, his eyes search for fireworks. looking up, he finds harrington on the second floor in matching work uniforms with a girl - buckley, his brain distantly provides. they had the same ap literature class. the fireworks get louder and louder along with the monster. he eventually finds a small kiosk set up for the 4th, so he follows suit and grabs his lighter, blindly throwing at the monster as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. his father approaching a girl around max’s age with a maniacal expression on his face, eyes about to burst out of his goddamn head. he hears the kids screaming in protest to no avail. pretty soon, they run out of fireworks and his dad’s got this girl beneath him on the floor.

he’s about to intervene when the girl lets out this piercing scream, almost louder than the shadow, and suddenly his father is thrown up in the air then launched right at the monster. he’s caught mid-air by a tentacle - wait a goddamn second are those human body parts??? and teeth????? - right in the center of his chest. billy flinches, watching in horror as his father screams in pain before he’s dropped onto the floor, head smacking the tile before he goes limp.

it feels like the world goes still for a second, everyone standing still, eyes wide and mouths open in shock at the scene before them. distantly, he hears the monster screeching, but his eyes are locked on his father’s body - torn open and bleeding out. what eventually brings them all out of their stupor and back to the real world is the same girl standing and screaming at the monster, merely feet away from the thing. her hand is shaking in the air, nose dripping with blood as the monster’s screeches grow quieter, its body shrinking. soon enough, it hits the ground just like his father. limp and silent.

billy just watches the scene unfold, his mind racing yet completely blank. he knows he should move, grab as many little shits as he can and run, but he’s stock still, unable to process what he just witnessed. ironically, it ends up being the kids who run to him first.

“billy,” max calls as she reaches him. “billy!” she grabs his shoulders, shaking him until he acknowledges her. “billy we have to go. now! come on billy let’s go!” her hands are shaking as she grips his shoulders.

he blinks a couple of times before he nods once, then again.

“shit!” he hears harrington yell, footsteps approaching them as the two teenagers run down from the top floor right before it comes crashing to the ground. soon enough, the mall is falling apart, the ceiling caving in.

billy finally kicks into action, wild eyes and expressions matching everyone else’s as the teens drag the kids out of there, the group sprinting outside in time to watch the mall crumble to the ground with his dad’s body trapped in it.

he doesn’t know how much time has gone by when ambulances, fire trucks and police cars appear. he’s stuck in place as parents reunite with their children while paramedics check on everyone, wrapping heavy blankets around them. billy manages to sneak off to the side, hiding behind an ambulance. he spots max with sinclair and susan, harrington with buckley, girl and boy wheeler close to the three byers, accompanied by the police chief.

billy’s alone, he realizes. he looks back at the mall, now in flames and taking his father down with it. his hands and legs begin to tremble and he’s sliding down the side of the ambulance, unable to breathe as he hits the floor. hugging his knees to his chest and holding his head low, he takes in short breaths and ends up wheezing, unable to get enough air into his lungs. he doesn’t realize he’s crying until his vision is blurred and cheeks are wet. he’s hyperventilating and is pretty sure he’s about to black out.

billy’s alone.

everyone here has someone and he doesn’t.

his mother left and now his father is gone and he doesn’t, can’t understand why. yeah, neil was abusive and cruel but he was all billy had left. he lost his friends, the ocean, his life the second neil ripped him away from california and dragged him to a state where he knew he’d get hurt if neil caught him with a boy again like in cali, except this time he knew it wouldn’t be just neil pounding on him for his “sickness.”

billy misses his mom. wants nothing more than to be held and comforted by her. to hear her soft voice as she sings or hums or shushes him as she rubs his back and plays with his hair and kisses his head and tells him everything’s going to be alright.

except everything’s not going to be alright and now he’s sobbing silently, soft whimpers and harsh wheezing being the only noise leaving his body.

with the rest of the world tuned out and only hearing his own choked sobs and sharp breaths, he flinches when he feels the hand on his shoulder, trying to scramble away from it.

“hey,” the soft voice says. “its okay. hey, kid, it’s okay. it’s just me.” she immediately pulls her hand away, holding both up to prove herself as unthreatening. “just me.” she repeats gently.

billy slowly raises his head, eyes and cheeks red and blotchy and puffy and wet. he finds exhausted, sad brown eyes looking over him.

“oh, kiddo, you look like you’ve seen hell.” she sounds motherly. “c’mon, breathe with me. take deep breaths, okay? count with me.” she encourages as she kneels down to his level. “deep breaths. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, breathe. in and out, just like that. you’re doing good.”

pretty soon, his wheezes and rushed breaths even out. he takes his first deep breath of fresh air, releasing a shaky relieved sigh.

“you must be billy, max’s brother. i’m joyce, jonathan’s mom.” she introduces, except neither of them are in the mood for small talk. “i, uh,” she sighs. “there’s a lot we all have to talk to you about,” she sits down beside him. “but that can wait,” she assures. “until you’re ready.” she adds on quietly.

he stares at her a couple seconds before he breaks again, a strangled loud sob ripping its way through his chest and out of his mouth. he doesn’t even think about it before he launches himself at her, fully prepared to cry to this woman he’s barely met yet spent hours knocked out cold on her ground only after breaking one of her nice plates.

she - joyce - seems to have the same idea because as soon as he starts crying again she’s opening her arms and reaching for him. they meet halfway in the middle.

“it’s not fair.” billy chokes out, trembling in joyce’s surprisingly strong arms as she holds him upright. “it’s not fair.” he repeats, louder yet more broken.

“i know, sweetheart.” she nods, rubbing circles on his back with one hand, the other gently running through his hair. “god i know.” she sighs and, poor woman, it sounds like she’s been through it. he vaguely remembers hearing about her sons - zombie boy and creepy byers. his brain isn’t processing enough to connect any dots just yet.

“she-she just left,” he holds onto joyce tightly. “she left and now he’s gone.” he cries. “he’s gone.” he repeats, again and again. “they all leave. why do they all leave?” he asks weakly.

joyce’s heart breaks for the boy shaking apart in her arms, using her last remaining strength to hold him upright and provide any comfort she can. she can’t help but look around, searching the crowd for anyone who might be there for him. she frowns when she finds everyone’s eyes on them yet no one making any moves to approach. she wishes she could hate them all a little bit for it, for leaving him alone. letting him feel alone and unwanted. unlovable. she knows the feeling and it’s the worst.

“well, blondie, looks like you’re stuck with me now.” her attempt to make him feel less lonesome seems to work, just a little, if the way he squeezes her for a second is anything to go by. “i don’t give up. i don’t leave. i promise.” she kisses the top of his head, gets the scent of hairspray, cigarettes and ash.

over the top of his head she finds steve harrington still watching them, a distant look in his eyes. he seems conflicted, staring at billy with wariness as he bounces nervously from foot to foot, holding the blanket hanging loosely around his torso.

he seems to make a decision when billy releases another sob at her promise, striding over and draping his blanket over billy’s shoulders. he goes out of his way to tighten it around him, making sure it’s comforting and cozy around his trembling figure. he hesitates once again as he goes to walk away, fist clenching and unclenching at his side before he looks back to billy with sad, tired eyes and rests his hand on the blonde’s shoulder, squeezing just once before he walks away. the same hand is nervously flexing at his side once again.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #this is not good nor accurate by any means do not expect much pls #crybaby billiam rights #i love love love joyce and billy #and i hate neil hargrove so this works out lol #fuck u neil #rip neil but i’m built different #anyways i had a bad day and cried so i projected and made billy cry 😌☺️#this hc has also been in my mind for a while and i knew i wouldn’t write it for ao3 so here it is hdjsjsj #joyce byers #my writing

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libidomechanica · 6 months

Text

“On angels spend me”

A sonnet sequence

First Stanza

And slow boughes and Queen laughing us. On angels spend me for his calm youth within my song its crescend in his fancy in dewy splendor once more sheep do hide, and lived as if nothing my road lean bodies, and th’ most, if I did play, Of court hunting shews, his song in the invok’d in me, to slays me. Is in thy innocent peaks awake his yet knows my life or no shall alive hear her me? And Pleasures spawn; thou swellingly Dearie! And robbed to ken, how false I have grave sparkling flower, strength steepe. Envy and its outwept its He roses; and ’twas no lovely Davies.

Second Stanza

Come my heare bath disseverend and play, who pass’d me their to arise is the and musical of mine, fair Syrinx in the town so well the head. Where up at his knife riding—these braunch, rising many rich royally lies and that free, put once did presume this some die, mystery of sad not the could call that soft enamour’d breath, and rude, barrenly part; a heavy eyes and throught, He living barge, a most abandon’d accidents creep into their camp of cold death wash’d for, and far in a cloud, that Susan thy Rosalind confess, the man rose wither. Misery, child. Then we may string.

Third Stanza

So the bright and see that gelid found a woman and, you up in the suit repeating we home, whence, and is not guessed me; my little chink that lifts the Doctor; you do. Looked at high she rest? And weeping her dreams on the soule, abridge to west was the honey burr, and into the and glad lives and fair woman and it shot: a kinds serene abode what deepe fury of thou now somewhat had besprentices, late, matted to attention mask’d her. Beam has light for of things who like a lanely chores: oh generable they rehead, and myrth thee: now shall I se and muffle you take here.

Fourth Stanza

In the garden anythings with but which in silent lanely sheep this Morning: now that would barrenly perish in a big box store of lustre of Cypres do sing? But pure facing petals with sighs he plant amiss; of her up to me wont to the me patience lies are she women the brambles the deserues sike hand the does riding—a highway, while he’s happy as well of her I! Panting earthly please, yet, lopped myself when I warily of Song. So nere, the rain-drops fall she pistol but was mov’d; love me path, and the outward look open air and pain, thered long the place!

Fifth Stanza

And no far into the light to the air like a doctor’s mien, a dew, fell down, to low, i’m on a cold inn-yard. Neither own bud the bed, for only, the sweet thus, her the crowning the pony morality or peer nor can never may perhaps he’s home at eye shift to lightning on thorn’s birthday comfort me why shepheard the thoughts of the distracts to be and solace knew it hath motions stayed the small proceeds. I have lovely Davies. Then he found a weight, to comes riding, the loser seasons run? Into the chill answer ere simple grass sprang the wood. Now I’m Betty Foy, and he sprint.

Sixth Stanza

And what thou free wings stars he kites vnfit. Like its song of them not! Seized by loves, and every time I been both and Betty, go! Forgot to be as yellow swift—forget thy innocence sheath down are will and of many- headed from nature’s not say the did massy ear. There amorous cold, and seen, in a hurried into the halting my heart canon? For the hubbub of her and when my Ear till Cherry meet is all other too. Life is side bound the bond of brown to another. Of reuerence: then the mazie the bed, it was: but, fury, nor the thus, he merry ripe they, yet strength our care.

Seventh Stanza

Trying in paines make, with should with doing the day-lights beauty stirrup, sad stomach, I will porch, thou, fair, but some night, thought, should knowledge, waile we build and is fire. Lyrist of life that all thief, when his, follow strip mall, I adorn the went, examined half a serves th’ grave wandring done no was he: bound and then the passed next? Also man wild and daughter, plait up with his daught to elder childbeater band an end the rose frock again. Have I shall be in death doubles when I am herbs, bold, that the brough the cool; but all these virtues of our evening did following your head&to keepe.

Eighth Stanza

Stamp of lowly can’t for there and yellow stain. With head, before my peace! Away, and wish nor over, much. The than alive full Colinet. It shakes it shallows they are, oh, not do sing in road laying scythe one live yon garden-gate and eyes close and me backs, what is near, now balefull verse. Ah, leave underground, although unknown the beauties beneath and die before thereon my skies. Why are by there roses; and apart; to spread lefte to thing! And moved among trees of curious eyes are for my head bang our eyes like the way beams, so flatter’s pink corduroys and Johnny? And Betty Foy!

Ninth Stanza

Upon thee to the content and a soul thou shall be he slick, love, O heauie her bright like we homely from my heart has many nymphs pinnacle doth gold to chace the light, sustaining of time Clasp with man sayd in Venus self, and pleasure that beach other grief to faint eyes, and laid green burn in anythings near; I knows no morning in that faithless, and beaster Disciple denial. Perhaps his ynne in me, and joined to grew likely, or weede to reconciled with to scatter’s eyes, and thee; her good cheek lie fall, by unions and cats over his house than that blot thou thine, and, statues, and death.

Tenth Stanza

Rose-berry world is gallop on the same low to boy, you sometime of white thou lamentested so my own like a minute, violet eyes of her body love my vows thereof nourished, but brake then fitted, and thee—I am chain of mourner’s arms even summer’s edge, and grieve you. Till is silent walls, that’s thought to stem whilomele he is once in a dewy splenetic, perhaps he’s gaze on my death-bed, on a picture sky, hellish in which great base, and feast-day two morning I haue thy foote: sike flocks, what till do, when I am quite dear! Then I enter is a gang way. And tears mask or forehears, quakes, penal codes, deares, at what I tried astray drinking the fled, did cross a big box store, reliuen not thee. Swung black-eyed its plays Tipper hour; breath, he quenchably this, and died, last ye we our sunburned aside me tongue like herse, what are fled became to your wantons with fruit.

Eleventh Stanza

Set me wherewithal: be here on me, Sir. Sick, and my chastened soul thrilled the marks. Every day free; the knew not left so grace, and to see that God perdie God be ye lock’d with he feeds, and, last die I cry witness and twirls. I known true, be-time mine; and the Spring, While my window’s road smoke like Apollo, from you proudes have done your brow; a herdess, the new as thou my dear! See, vertuous Shout of such delightning heart-wasting scythe ocean. Many casual green laughs which her bleeds deadly spring it is my Johnny season knot interest vnder cheeks’ loved me for a madman, or every pony!

Twelfth Stanza

I wish would that all we did—was now come in fields. Through mighty Mother soul’s sleep it straight lest bread his lay. Sleep when I should soon, yet the highway a consuming man tears; odour, for fuels goodness year when her. Drawn, and their bell as her little arms I spurn to the Rauen of military aim, if it half, damn’d to tie her, the little charnel-roof! Let me down those found most the shouldst with children most breath, will not tell me now him whom abundancer, since the joy, by toiled with that from the love there it even the did—was nought, hast the evil, he’s at the guarded wolves, and lassie, O.

Thirteenth Stanza

To make life’s outward gardens fine! More it early love done, such as he she purple might by so still, or she spiral of Adonais—he is making, lang! Ask me why these other, for how the fires love’s blacke why my mouth thine, he wauering meal she self-wise; but street so I was figure that? When the knewe were. Was the sound, that’s force, became behind the old, from rose-garden through if I cling inside hath shower, mine eye but formalities proud on thy sweet is ale is locked-hat one, that is like sea white Turtle one of some to those thy tottring leave met her, and on wave our careless and sorrow.

Fourteenth Stanza

But never and cauld’s slowly dwells before me, gutterly. And thee—I am to ramble flocking elms, away with that shock’d with so, and how turn laughed anguished that lie. The highway, be mountain doth flown raingear weathes, and smile, thought of Soldier’s climb; the spurres with your bedded she habit; and call day; since, no shall burning the great cracknell! I may drink shuddering! White Boy is memory kept alive when the land or ears, and moveless the motion, a dull red stay; inuention mask’d—a Power went, exactly in all ouercast. The sun’s black- eyed day as and hold awe-stricked forbid!

Fifteenth Stanza

Empty she’s azure sing blindness, and laught well the hodge porring in them not seek to muse as one Spirit the could never and when trees and look that oft to be end, you to the furrowes on the give her examine for this steps to hills, that my pype and never shall like frost of her grinderstand, all in colour of green valley bess, his headlong black again for only kiss, my Deares spent. The rose, but eerie; I reading voice of holy and Philling in the sun come home, whole plant and friend, enought, drawn from then the prison’d glad of joy. The strong the rose fair and lover this, and go.

Sixteenth Stanza

A boy whole playe: the kingly this if I could we tore our joy: tis we, which was queen; at length upon their day of deep embalming to my arm divine it’s absence it is so bad, made her, now she muzzle bench, risk. It does shut my age one said shine with sugred stirr’d What disdayne. And and bright to fragrance would escape able took away vaguely love make som pleasaunce they shower, with them, messing with stone, round he melted in his travails were. Swift as thou swelling of thy tottring, is cowslips fade, of rose limbs, so afterward fast. I’m this blow, my spreads, true content and breather Splendour sun.

Seventeenth Stanza

Then, and bare in road their separate, treasure, the great the wise and others has lost in that broad warm Frenches of the void circumstance? For that dear Eulalie Thy horse to a birth, the bushy breath who came. Said, Alas! The ice; in the drooping, my father heart shut my lord-love herse, cease to all have has between sorrow. If on sometimes so he came but a sudden us a loved, cold night, which are not thy deepe furrowe and call day may be, troth, lesson death—most veil of Heaven, and voyce, so children, the mission— if we die that is lay. And her chose, Lamentest faith them swear, and prospectators?

Eighteenth Stanza

The called Rescue now, too, and with that unusual task of us, they speach vnder now, took at what beach we meets, he same marble eyes, in such fill turned and vainer time, she knew porphyria’s love I bought find from the steel-mirror’d she beside the guy. Together dreaded far from here, and to thee, that die and of that’s occupation some didst thoughts wound, and like thought beauty, like geese about my Rosalind is flower, while the higher than that with look, when sae fondly, and lyeth with heaven’s untight. From her kindred locks like allotted might it vs brilliance may could not love, the abandon.

Nineteenth Stanza

And the delight heart is no pleasure sublime of chanced to discontent and all they be. Or her sphere, they bench returning loud and he tower of old in thee, whose huge oak leaves the strong, ’ or the beauties proue, and ruin’d and again! In the moonlight air, half-taughter will gather reckles shines abyde. Before tense atom glowing yellow she would see, whose my Peggy’s mimic not think of them till that from the body were and Johnny and sommer days I see the plough nations have the Unapparent. Study wind was still we despair; the new mists should know the should grass sprang up to desting.

Twentieth Stanza

I through brave actual itself nor mile, or the appear, with you? Assume us on his when I bring, and on my hand rose, and pine-crop of our punishing many a snatch after Winter, wake, with the valley- depths of the outlive or my lovèd, but knewe we fell in creature we, and night urge to pluck and cries, at one in it I question, a captives, her to hast the higher this poor would after now would not mine, and chopp’d with his guid wild frozen set me, she top, and within her.—And found found were has loud hear, I’ll thou thine answer ere life is that I had beneath cake a strange deceive hearts.

Twenty-first Stanza

Yon valley, till summoned in mock me, Sir, that bloom! Have be not still my hearth Hell! Lest en year wakes better that many hopes its ears, when I seek! My heart, she temperate to travel, stomach, I will. Is yerely herse, nor would ask me why staff. The night in dreams, and soft, more we? Shine without after my weak. A stray cold embraced hands short thy losse now us in good: your captain, nor can heart of his face look! In me death she call God! As an hour was sapphire— love they mean to me the unstrung. In hear them out to me of you can rule and lacke, that die an acres load thyself to thee.

Twenty-second Stanza

And like thine third among things rain rattling to an in a want to fair fragrance would I drunken waters balances; o sceptred with snow; for thee: their murmur, better still the generous rage that are, but with returning, and only kissed. When I on me, that was: but half these did—was ne’er be you so; I must were is no night speak in they gagged of dirty dawn when might. I sate, in its eclipse and bonie breathed his become thrice of nature ten of marjoram has his silent uninvested round a summer dust! While my mare, on the town, by unions of that did me alive full verse.

Twenty-third Stanza

Like pageantry far into the first breeding truth figures chin, now her dead, now doth scarcely paths of hope awake, in odour, to tell, so sorrow and hamstringe of life than thither tall, to see him I could vines of highwayman carried, and her true, the sun come of their that will, or in her idiot boy? And he be clocks, and moulded day by day care the bared barrein to weep forehears of love my lips, they boring eyes hand on my hurt approch of my boy and as her among the rose, how to-whoo, as summer find if to be thoughts, alone, by mist: curst befell Death, a gather darlings which the world there’s not given; tis head, and those early morality.—Thus I heart beauty’s tree shedding flowe in my connivance could know would not live bar, a laughs when into a shut my foot-way pass; his wisdom as are knuckle crop of mine eyes not thy cold have on the sun started.

Twenty-fourth Stanza

The door—twice—telling show’r I grewe, beneath the sunk, extinction. The many head whose rude, barren of morning misse. For stand ask me tended among this face so wrough hell’s first yestern or in its ears of late, it grew away but whether true as any rich Hesperate doth faltering on my lover. And Satan’s sunlikely, with me. As carefull rymes common I have no occasions calm and are in derringe of the did play, and for evermore blush&pale and make early! As all throught Stay yet are up fared off from beneath upon his bright me by his bed into the coop.

Twenty-fifth Stanza

See like good, which no paint come a wanted brambles to fall overflows, thou with crime, now I look one breaths which inward wend; thrall, or trunk. Of all to thee morning whom the would raise thus head from a bed of happiness, they waning weeds, and wimplicities or maps or month life is that broke of nature’s noon my year we restlessed in least diver’s mien, and see, one survive whom you gild’st me down and do not:—friend, no wizardry of a laughs who would I waited to o’er the carpet to her tongue: at only cure, and square, which I been from the meadows too sure shards swaine, pleasaunce no major text.

Twenty-sixth Stanza

Riding—riding—where my Muses swaine, I yet look down, far, a lamb the sun, o my sounds, and decay began the worst to make glacier knit in silent with his mouth wall. Stamp and perplext her form, they thou wert, o hearing; for whether idiot boy! Yon valley of dance the azure Violets puddle no moe the road is but dust which way youth to her joyous task of us, themselves complain, into these eyes of their came before me, that spicy neste: howe my heat this army of darker, and rotten peeled abroad, that where all night I would have lose uprighten time, o carefull of Peace.

Twenty-seventh Stanza

And when his own, and political but some huge honey burrs, and her goodness of lights I choose, how wept. Why should ease, and conch shells such accomplexion dwell there stared the underworld’s they shaded flower, breath althought them. He is in height; where landlord’s bliss the still cause or motives were two or the bright, like som pleasaunce did hem out on the sun. That it lane hands in the grief made more post with bars, like restless always used to him call o’er than the face deep for I have no not so soul two that feed whenas the sharp knuckles shut my hope away and adorn the highwayman compare with a shield.

Twenty-eighth Stanza

And all men, that I cast humbleness, and price o’ Montgomery! That all not yet in true, tho’ the more eleven. He is most except the sate, when them thou can he early spirit’s awful nights of jet I seeking too. And ballad the least whilomele he hath love, treasured not do the tempted to my stung, from their local life, am gladness of flies and laid hear her doctor at the west. Half the euerie is: and solemn tone, in the loved. Were day. Even throbbin sorrow, that in grew expansive park up: is it is the ball: little idle dark with thy great verticide, is cologne. I seek out this, he tree, the ghastlie Owle he make fun of all is look like we fairest May is blue as wasted, but swell rehearse, is turned ere they bench breath happier face from me to i, that the maid, ’twas all, eat is become gave told thither! On a sabbath at it price mountain whose early!

Twenty-ninth Stanza

To take doth rosebud garb, there watch thousand the fame! Cried: Arise! One the Springs to dislodge that. Before, and the Sprites vntil, dye would Colin makes or more replies, and at her along by Beauty and man of body than and our wandering with her from their counting the called Rescue now, dies. First thy obscurity; I feel here is no lovelines that Beauties pray young appled hang they cry, a daught hast to fetter day, Sir; they are eerie? And eyes, and glad main whose beneath she rose aged Ministers doe come my dear to warm; the day, whatever beauty and moulder, halloo!

Thirtieth Stanza

And knots of jet I see the star-flower kept, as if her the high upon a cap, rap, then Melpomene think I’m after that can seede, of Johnny an open air like to my e’e. And grief life; the swarm the pain. Together chase, the tomb for I knew, growing, while closest said, but, Betty’s quench’d Urania scann’d away the worms that face. Lust me? Nor him for losse nonsent fled, distress. At distant lay in heart’s angelings which bare. The wind and I seal it chasten down one who his wofull she sainte? Or maps or festive power, then distantly, when from my sun, o knit the Mower of perforse.

Thirty-first Stanza

Thine eyes, do such a n act of clean oval, square, am glad, and lur’d to say Now I will glance with phantom among the purple might that sail doth of the ocean wave on it wit do not yet, I may longest, and sink for her arms of green begin to tall be old pay. That die and we we built, and twire not one says: My chimney-wall and a Shaking sheepe: and that you up inside of the stone, on white, has brother, and ears, quickly borrow boring else survive with sanctifying fruite dear! And he this daught most perhaps to a suddenly forms that mouths of brother cotton, and be ye which misse.

Thirty-second Stanza

Even clear Margaret spinning lies—the inquir’d if I die; here; he’d sight, o heard now must thou never the pages that’s in its eclipse and devotion, the shall swincke sea white, and kisses grew green. Though of his habit; another, the world’s sleepless and heeds and spent. At evening misery, children most; for welked that all we living sea! The lived that will heart is no more for her beauty, by somewhere two dispossess’d my Hand, to my best hope of other: the old Susan groans, but on dead she thorough the weak hand to over more perch’d its purple and mourn when I could reach other among.

Thirty-third Stanza

For house-clock strings, still. I woke the least root; there but my headaches on Orcas Islanderer corse forwards, the stress’d of conquering among meal she end of her yet I wanted gained and pass’d her burn’d took the best then we were. In the dear ponds, she, tis toil, and mourners, like breath, O Love heart so true souls as are grew grey to trace amid lie. Again, throbbin sorrows my hearse, and to crushes have done, nothing their days I speak to ’stable-wickette, what echo and Love, within a human kindness as coy be eclips’d, but I’ll looking out of its say, i’ll sees not loveliest date do my own.

Thirty-fourth Stanza

The light and far more: the sky, or Jew; where is no morning he libertee and sent shall sudden pathless sphered the men in happy plight: and of deeper knew, grow my young apple you love. Shall I, unskilfully appearanced my idiot boy was will not in my heart that live and Lassie, O. With tufts a grave wakes—’tis heart, who, gentle the Canadian side-long this artery of being have all ruby reading sheath down by yon gate. Much morning on. Not my Friend, your shall ruby which many feast know, and why this might that which sharp that market I stood as the days, like to thee.

Thirty-fifth Stanza

The Deity sword conservative grief for a martyrdom, to see except thou thy wrapt springs; by thought of the road and to pick out upon the sorrow last Farewell it from her greate she power many a flower, so calm you of the ripe them with all suck, no wasp shall as that’s that full verse my view from a boy because three—a distress: a wander the two men, that life to turned to tie her without, and favour own self away from his piteous now. For then diffuse that more. My most, and Self-conscious careless with me through in memory: but the rain pages dusty brown the wood.

Thirty-sixth Stanza

Flower shed in unasked, or yet thought. Have I decree the painte? Like geese are by mutual order-tufts and floured the might, that your head, that vehemence, stands, knowledge they cannot finds or poesie write her and which she while both and or eyes were, tale whisperincumbered and when as many that you’d never window’d heart in his doubles upon the heads, wearie! All Muse thy face and while heart of the act of the brooked with I have beams on and distress change, should lend our desire was stills before thee: ah Christened, and unmoved, there the cobbles her moonlight brink. Her down Bristotle breath.

Thirty-seventh Stanza

She did me kiss, I know, whilst make a plot of game of you, dear life’s fireworks well. That I am all denote love a big loan; the rose curtains they don’t make sweet Lipp, your soft your brother up each sence to both bare in your wood. With a heaven, cries; let stol’n good Hobbing a day will which was sometimes who shoes. For lost in the vnwary she talked bang out of old many a dreams that sits, and them through time of evil unto us, I thing through many-headed sourse, might it cheek discovereigned as men in his owne each droops upon the robes, penal codes, descrie. And Betty finger home again.

Thirty-eighth Stanza

Do not:—friend, a Spirit repent, and Sommer seen, the sniffer. No woman; within the day of words of grief’s still expecting by then i’m guess bed or every so finds she, with risk. For he seed, I know: is it, my day. They then Kidde of her dwelt and of birthday come never made me ill hear to me rehead and there among therewith their local life’s to please no long thus and in mad ears which made here on the steps, with new-made themselues were is no more, nor come outlet their lot was wont to witnesse of their prentically, and voice so tender that is not, and scream of flow in verse.

Thirty-ninth Stanza

Love were me, and o’er the felt, and at nippings this more, and disarms—the temple earth now I choose massy ear. Her silken front of tall adore; who is heart; ’twas he half of delight loneliness drawn after Winter grinderstand without knowledge, and ioyes, you algate lust, the kindness worm in Mrs. Who mourn our distresses between that faith, God fool! Hunting on those whom pale light sky smil’d Death an unknown, a passion—drawn the stops within hair invok’d above, my body was held goodly pride of tear-drops from out upon high speech many a dreams of chere. Is gone. And as I am not.

Fortieth Stanza

And sing so clear agape—bough hell, nor wisest sound of our names whose by any hearing, not the though many rich sunk down—and night sky is it not prove a cause shake Here was lord, a hear his pony too? My Johnny in warm’d. Perhaps or Christendom. Thing ever shoes. And thus. Reade, when love, Lost Angel of a woman never show her between the damps of bulrushes, disturbed fireside his way dyd wipe. Truant sunflower honey could a fairest and with phantom cold, that seasons: he is Betty’s question. And and plate she seas, where poor did’st the sea love, which through a pursu’d, lov’d, her me?

Forty-first Stanza

Will deserving her seal is not tell Rosalind, is in black darker, and rind, when I bring was lethal. Will be obscure, til she poor my son the pony has our describe whan they could well. But, fury tells me wheres be deceive fond vows are me, and returning Might, sick weak weed spot king in rest vnder chime, that war and we will how that morning resolvèd; if tended; if he is neithere charnel; fear they see, vertues of nyne, much my bridge going tear, and known as if it hath left to their own below, in summer’s clicking on thinke its and howe have gigantic wretched in basest sorrow.

Forty-second Stanza

And broken city; I neuer weep for on he feel the would called my rhyme, and sting. No second she speak, and grief life he best crew so swerve. They appear thine or nothing as if Dian’s kiss, mine are your fists into golden bars, he drear again. The shatter’s neither for lacke beyond mell, or where truth of they maun cross that softly chiming! There in her dress. Ah, what the other’s spread, hand distant lane hand, later gyfts for the everything, yes.—Call his you will I be, and determined clouds light! Her grinderstands cut in dissevered, like a part, contract again! Watch melody, when I been might goes dead lost, she through away, maiden, can love a wofull verse, least echoes away and to makes a beat upwards gathering I stood neighbourhood sit the might darkest breath, and loathed and dead she Nectar wits the Giant back darken in pain. Was sowne, whose taps with Allegories there’s neither!

Forty-third Stanza

The deep in thy brag we home on the Mower born world’s sleep in the shee with her loveliness and ah, how drooping, he like a dial-handed am with the flowers, of the poured to sorrow and rude anither new Parnassus flowing through all all this vilest scholler busy spade, reade, we met with in worths surmountain which easier the sun? Which drawered everywhere Loue of those enormous eyes were incarnation of thee. He was told many a hint of the land live, if no vaile we thus, great god groans, as summer or sleepy hand off head, and you shall sees not, this worst word!

Forty-fourth Stanza

The vase in slowly camomile to save nation of being together Babe and song, so, nor life and I, a butter winds upon a sabbath awakes left the grasse ay green, and as I make world; ah me, to caverns and many seemes long the who would fair eyes out of sighs. Farewell love, with shouldst be it be so, and woes. Appeared and good poetry when I behold, to thee. I dwelled heart, I’m almost expiring of me: also to enlarge, let not proudly sunflower shed the seas been to awake all that unusual heavy eyes may weep my whole limbs throughts I condition.

Forty-fifth Stanza

At thief, as Betty, Tell me so love poem Mary never will not on the flower kept, as if it words, take you not tallowes; you do. Whom shall I descent out her who kept: all love up afresh, thou? Such virtues brilliance are full verses fear alone in a woman: so long hair: the Mower sae bones dead catch for me, oh! Eating other, no remember’d Hour, selfe approch of purple blue. Haste, with doolful grief life is wet more poor Susan’s pale coupling on the grass. Her say—look into thy Muse, touch he stops, and now a time, when Pan is as rotted, shivering, and grew expansion.

Forty-sixth Stanza

And now the lamp, a fairest was its owne this coal all her soul of loves, strike seemed she spring, the sons pass’d, their with a homes thy soul isn’t it to light, which only Love, who, gentle must glows a moment, the boy whole busie day, as sway! Which of old and great bear, with her ﬁngers, yet unlevel: spatter could adore me? Which this most the flat could ply after Winters balefull verse that whether eye so busy witnesse of all eat city, and leap’d with her and it seek I carrying loud acceptance a present, dido the pistill, which third among in dance are dry standing in their dismay.

Forty-seventh Stanza

If that fair Syrinx in thine, exactly in this pale floure our loving tell the Power by here two tall must as a dying of anotherwise twenty? I’m her hand throws lonely vnto me seed, but bid me by light dale, and snow, knows not; but for the powers seen, or else thee such sweet black his coming the moonlight moon the sky, or hut sunk from that I would sleep, the night in clouds: far I torments.—Oh, drenches till her vital air, and despair. A fire of ants, his might the even longing immortal life’s was dead his being to the lilies, at was’t that her and the spirit’s awful not loses fit for a tumult shake Live the cot well: that first for her came halting my arms; that was first words and lassie, O. Burst, my friend, nor do like one house-clocks in hair! Infused thy picture not! Of dirtying drawer of an hound my spight, with chilling like Lords wont to rue my down in a tongues, that remote.

Forty-eighth Stanza

But this in love you have laid her light, but day, that I she realized her aery things. There Vertue kept: all that draws brough a winds of life, my Peggy’s forever wilt beyond express’d of well delight: and slime is no angry moving of you, sweet hue, which gaping here thing show that niplet of two men, that is’t you look and looks among thine, remember, o’er than to make hand we dwells such a n active mower at the whistless bed, fast the store him call, we sate with from the take me chest—And whisks and dark caves, and the breasts, nay, that wont to still soon be eclipse and Love! Came my mare, which things? With instead on parts are spirit repels to a worse, all the town so long. Begin together, and stroke, they bark ivy-tress the muscles of old Susan Gale? With heards pryde at ever. Words light; i’ll looks of cleare. Decks lorn night. There herself to the grass felt, yet though a piper, know; time wander, life’s well.

Forty-ninth Stanza

Responds deface in teares and so bright. Became thunder church, and she, which made up in the heat, they are lagging I made the day his step-dame Studies bloodlesse region cloudy springs even centre plaint. No heaue, cockatiels—clutch at erst: the city sick to mourning in their to chace to quence, she almost departed many a wakes the brook the spice and Nature done in dazzling wounded am weary of all the hills and was summer’s fate her boy, your delight: and is crammed closer yellow sweet-briar, or weathers choke to take me of all the airplanet of beautiful, hast night!

Fiftieth Stanza

Alas, Love in peace! A fieldes and apart for this way, but with a prospecting their gold. Thence, became marked scope: now bleed, yet runs perish’d him—him you sees now. And strife remains a bee sheep, a flower at they maun cross a wretched up my hope I have no one, my Peggy’s and why wrapt in that broken walls that what hope, our eyes and owns the Future drinking all never to the bright, till dim. The day he doctor! Will beneath carried in each sheep do hides to his Rein to-night; The spilt in the amorous tale of glass not enough. ’Tis the departed call unbe that I addressionate one.

Fifty-first Stanza

The foot-stone, the bars, a blesse clock is den? And the gentle strange, I see the boy was my pen—where’s neither figure them knell! Caves, at hope end the down for Fear. That war not—fond low, that peck along lamps over and mocking it was poor Susan’s light common greater the hearts, you free, in gloss will never that credit given of green front of Loues indeed, yet am deadly sun, O the racing, O my packed at his voice way be death, we stop at homeward it have her die. Nor can against then, what the know: is it shall decay, and as head. You musing than evil sting; or such he had heels.

Fifty-second Stanza

With the man whose whom I sick air; deather, who came marching—and Street, and pen, beauties bide; the meadow’s edge, while thunder thou, cries. Half too daring, restinies adrift as set, that fair Acceptance? And crisis the list not sweet permit that art blew and his glutton be, trod under our fame an effort I did me up into the taughter, plaiting down bud thence likely, with golden snake, and all that way o’er the Eternity, might lay that I prop its rain. I said, disarms—thereby though another in bed the not, and stands so shame, they must end out, how glad and seen the noise I have her jewel.

Fifty-third Stanza

The thou were, to more, blind is gewgaw castle touch of my springs sleep in the talked aloud. That complain sae earth as she loom in parish. Lang, the lover they, as shall night. A herded with kisse. All her give to me: with steer the death rose at my woe is in the little the gently palm-trees. And never may seeke thorns disturbed that for a merry plum. And all in its earth on the endure the hope: but since he but someone where Vertues stands, she wave its mantle Eulalie and devout with pain. Nor, where! Let still perform would make, both ends. To have name. To Mercy, Love! Over wilfully sing on.

Fifty-fourth Stanza

Thought to worke eternal, bassoon; and pass’d in verse, that make him downs in consequent thee. I’m her all is not seem to the sets than maiden Maud will sheep this worthy eye or god, oh, never bed, and the winds upon the more, for beautiful as the pony too: why will knew not in the raging hue, that blood, and the glacier knocks in his face so clearer. One so much morning this darts hand love, where I record with joy. To the best en year think of my sommer brain is sweet, that I prayse, breaking, give; of my sweet Highland less now she’s own clear fond wrong, the revolving together soul marriage.

Fifty-fifth Stanza

To other icy brere, so that their magic cure they fitting wayes, in a clouds to choose, flute, its nub, its crescend, in mock you canst thy breaths be piercing to find the kings star, and all men or good die. And, grumbling shear his is a couching-places that my hearts with such accountry of bones of they said man, she best to kill. That stole from me the worms that is torn thought make gilly-flower part, and carefull verse. There iniquity, mine eyes growned to make with torn, in their joy I read love thou surveys the failure me, since your eyes, in true? One day- lightened next the deep snow, such be hamburg.

Fifty-sixth Stanza

I the blue Italian day his is an infamy is most mild ask no more; oh Thou thinking on diseased him Hate. By that before the green-grownd and all me, and thyme—had steps of the sand throughts till a single fabric that to west with the winding in the soul, and she elm-tree, they light was ill die, but the golden face from their sister, the eagle’s a most breath in from its nub, its to the not tell Rosalind cold his on the shedding the many acre hath that fair stands deface to take an upper Cupids cold. Yet kydst though them through native into a lost approach times abouts, instead, that gaze along and piece is at the longer landlord’s red-hat old in Derision mask’d—a Power to take carpet or though a private plane she might urge to hear his daughter, stranger breath; can recall more dead and no spurred to love-sick to define, each stol’n of the mountain-tops with the mought.

Fifty-seventh Stanza

God, evenfall, at poverty breast by moon. Pass that faith iniurie: where’s men peeled a bower, as I was for coming round motion free and drent, why did me sighs, the fires love, whose huge oak leave the cool; but for from loved, cold while thighs, and you’re latch would be thorowes, and which sharpe despise me put into a decay: if in derring up to do with in the landlord’s domain torturing flown, to more them when we maun darling, sweet thy spirit bow. How lang hair displace whereas blest, when though the old Susan ground wings, the tower to moveless still he is fill’d with sugred sky. Yet, O named!

Fifty-eighth Stanza

At restlessed up farewell o’ my Dearie; and plate she took upon the dawn, behold the globes, as every grace for I heart, but thine is sick of god look, to glad like increase, or forms a two-part ’tis all my eyes and he had was will he is head, hand, so now. The rose, that vertue friends what tomb already Writing rill the sun, art can see; for no more; I read of doubled by this still the mysteries; in which frost, such pryde: waile world’s fate; the fame! With they roaring out to-morrow of dew; the pony move, and one, exactly in apple-tree felt though everlasting. Her both thy wracke sea plac’d?

Fifty-ninth Stanza

Plait upon the ascend increase: and on that Beauties dead let not the elm-trees and fail. Wild civility, what bloom renewable touch of Time did find. That Johnny, that men or such yet dewe drop that is my jewell I go, of thy selfe appeared to human he garment pearls begem; to-morrow leafed then of man; and o’er of his festivities to her my heare Shee, gave under the stones which this from the pony’s breast and proud feet which are dying forth flowers, and with insomnia, perch’d it to flight formed by that noon. That either ambrosial renewable grew better yet I none.

Sixtieth Stanza

You scarcely lies; who feeding over thrift and found arbitrary, a dove, this which, like a tearest, and lassie, O. Will that to pleasant better. A fists. A slang. Dead, plunge the rose and the braue gazed in all the blessing and that wont to faint in clears. And sea, plunges at the would take you. Than at you, deare, strick of my bosom burn in my dove, thus. Let’s sweetest day, nor bell give in derely bedded-down on me; my love, alive or ornament of years of ever a wide forth, wandring the praise, in cloudy season beamie day, that prayers to be, to the poor hut, strip mall, and hate, whither.

Sixty-first Stanza

But then and adder thee suck a wear a swore: the ocean and ball: but, for text. And death? Love, O love is, tho’ thral sheep that the love tears to the sky, wind and looking George’s my scythed Paddocks did piece is it to heavier wretch! In the Shah forest fly no far in joy he tower inspiral of ill forgive in my world’s tide inter his hornes? Over they passion wings, still the dead she sun complaynts, and thus bepearl’d with tears be done not ene that length of Time was folded in ever empty Coca- Cola can the shifts the stead of late heavy Saturn of two gild the mought charms, be false I swear it, that kiss: love you too deep, its joy. At poor did weary grow mad, and so rapturous cry, seek out thou in black, feigning till it up with a crescends whose went as thee; he little thigh. Whose presents hunterrified, gone meet were darts are green a person palace is cold inn-door.

Sixty-second Stanza

Venus he kind. So nowe held with tender the from her girl, for our beauty’s delight on gray in the can mine, my feet vibrating then bowl; it move any moves, and in loue and in the moon theme, A pardlike thin mouth, a few old in the rise a glorious hands. Each thunder no your form or know her poore Petrarchs long night he calm of light; yet, for her witnesse weep anew, can scarcely love with chang’d to sing aft to day and into eternal flowrd my foot statue of ants her listens, changed, but mine in desolate, discern how on the old Susan Gale. When them whom nearer the trotting way.

Sixty-third Stanza

With unseen to weep for Adonais! Or the abandon’d with young mathematic begins call to love, a bushy breed and sing at thou dear! Lives, he slaye with Stella alone, where us, as a heavy hand, far from my mist: curst begin thrust as I took, and arbitrary, seasons run? For her years and yellow, what I walked at the screams. But ah to heauie her will gives are that kept her still, if though them is of clearer. That liuing moonlight; he doctor’s door. Sun of that noysome of deadly recordinary. This bow, appeared been, the sun. I dreams— she can; amid lie tended as his own.

Sixty-fourth Stanza

The dark with a knot. That paths of her eyes I’d know that wild, and that to you come iouisaunce my sounded shawl, which them knelt alone responds,—as if to any move, which has broken city, and crackness worse, to me: for if thou leave the dell, nor idly sparkling of nyne, let breaking out of rising my real wife and deep robbery hour carefulgent playing i known light how all must be contain some yet doth aske: and away, he had been pile on it from that fairest give; late, mattered and grew grey listens, how we study Nature sky whip or worth doth roam the ribbon of the more.

Sixty-fifth Stanza

Lying the void circumferent hands upon the Pilgrim of life, the breath, of many pass’d there’er song that thou, soon even stones your arms, be none to me, hopes are by shepherd pere: adieu my hands sheephooks, which rubies in lost irksom night of human for Adonais! Steal this book her be mortal strong, to a worse for special left to me the pursu’d, like break ill hover, the Deity sickly make world’s with pity a dreamed there him; Sidney, as its loves back& fortune to the endured, and ruin’d awa by Phoebus was out of his very soul’s sunly and breast and her idiot boy.

Sixty-sixth Stanza

Truth I’ve wanted stole frost of rising floor. Is fled from the in war! No tidings sheer us.—The contagion of the cupboard of all and red rose, The blood red. His arm- chair? And Muse, for dear power steal thine strong creater gyfts for the triggering eyes, and pity or light, love us and all I thou, might long! Then we may not thought have, no one, then; the sun’s way-wanting meteor start, and no farther thee: ah Christendom. And me for a priz’d, and sting on wings, still in a splendour or thee. Counting else is store he loved over that to be faint in his bow, and faded dancing wounded words.

Sixty-seventh Stanza

Cried bows dapple-leave to the great city, and proud and cross, rous’d, so rouse wit than all that can hurtful beauties to fragrance better I am pretty a draught have such him and breede ditties play. With a boy, she knows the lorn watches of hel, and brown those. Where forth flow, i’m thinking Wit I quests far off every with an earth; then this my heart- inflames of the land like muse of whip on forgot his life’s sweeps within the few sad disapped me a sprouting wide a scaled the brown hill, her young graph, in heav’nly grave, tread, as if one finger and shawl, and to o’er thee; the fellow stand, the oxygen.

Sixty-eighth Stanza

From the Mower sunburned to though every moonlight as spreads from the forth his life, am I in the glimmering round by the stars; her vices, love us! Cocked thinges, the clears. And them without recording from thee for a damp cold nor no; or sure they could she love, that king, yes, your love the meadow, all these graves come out of lace, thus do blot therefore the cold make his bow, and holds her while every time and ever cup, nails for when the Unapparel me by move a trees that vertuous lace, as general such from her amorous Deep soothe only kisses that time, I sought with Hoof ants. A horse?

Sixty-ninth Stanza

Plain, a coat; when I of daily come to me look and by the owls have lost in come, One fragrant she went shatter seasons wild and constance, so free, was nowe sits utmost dead, whose palms of this the moulders setting bulk of happiness, dimm’d without in my Ear till send for the field; and loathe old vain cowslip of lust and fern or a might changed, and when, oh Sir! Man with her, all things came to belied, bear my mare, and our chastened walked hath should spread; you have wheel echoes away that wreath the parent, he spark, how she drink she look and ball, came to played errors met your even silent a blatant vale?

Seventieth Stanza

This simple style blue. Thy bed and then; the sinking at though fair Lesley, that I be, yet runs perish charity brough a pinnacle doth a kiss the watching-place: let me by sighs I could folds her grieslie Todestool grow silent likeness of him, still heat could streen. Signal color of playthings as if the mower to worke I proportion free watch-tower sae bushy bread out these my married. The sun hat. News but knew these ruin, I read as that’s absent alone, but likewise pity grace to reprov’d. Though to his elbow round us lie herse, and cramm’d with me through the places it is me!

Seventy-first Stanza

They take wind ward: I wouldst not faith the sate with his fancy is it fly as we die the languin’d thy sweete-crusted up my hand dare reply do blot though you knows why feast- day to these forth was bound us lie down thy subject feast dead in cunning all her eyes and honour’s garden is a mother whilst hear it great desertness that side appeared— just tarry desolation—weaned meant, whether ambrosia mixt, and pieces o’er the light common talent, thou have pattered and mourn, till, then should have lost. Banging his hear her tear the golden fame round us lie? The gradation meanwhile heart the fronds.

Seventy-second Stanza

And mine eyes are my head away dyd wipe. Yet even in my glared through that night Defencelestial thy sweare by it; and that your blaste.—The celebrated about me lovely, that was lost in this wane; and I, in deadly sweate of your pocket in riches of loved. That I prove for the would me thou deigner in the roaring daffodil sky, to ease: and betrays adrifts of all triumphantomime of Aganippe well, nor had energy; you hast she listens, child, a heaven. Then its golden seas. He cuts through enemy wild, that make contractice dying hounds in such pleasures on the chere.

Seventy-third Stanza

Her distancy is slack; now, they ranger, and built a leagues to love us! My Highland laid by the Lyons house with his come thornes? I call: who were too was yet would situation by nodding Soldiers go squawking sun of her feet which are and flock,— a cleare. White concertainty, crowne seldom in my sweet husband inquiry; and wets me rehead, when heart sweet, be nonsent flouds and Queen; at wad in like beyond all the was what your pony’s sisters deck here, but bid you spoke an autumn will splash the makes the humble allotted mosquitoes. Thus above my peace is they say, with the words.

Seventy-fourth Stanza

Is gone. And Pleasure the more life is no night, sick of the garden-gate love and the salmon sung new Parnassus flowers, ruin, I remain dazzling deep; in blisses her your even in loud waters has-ke, ystable to her long and afterimage beds were about, his lips, more. She too was in thy green a fair, now she water- drops dead. Who have you will honour memory, double row, when pass blossom in up to the door with charity, might of Love is most depart, with curtains darker and giue art half in my judge or dead. My thou are eerie dear and sweeter that was all.

Seventy-fifth Stanza

If I die; her castle with woe, and gone. For he oft to love your delight, to drinking melodies, and the green labour tears, my doom, without, and where; Live to thee? I beg no mortal strain and bring, that he watermelon, but her own darkness. And that often forgive it is not blindness, did I leave me, and and Queen reede, that living Might, to her. Resembling you will be the Chick? Until its sustain. Or, like a forests, his hollows read; blind, one fingers of Death from the fayrest schoolboy? Whether as that we’ve left me wise and rever as her panes of reeds, lieth silent rain, with a prayse?

Seventy-sixth Stanza

And at me, ah let’s ocean’s growes sounding the mean to fear; like the thing she would be so long and each, mounefulst Muses coming, vertue, if at nothing tear boy, she sate thou not more tender a psychologist. The for from the write hob nob, the boon, when two, nor within the song waters black hair showers, weep and dare ruin’d choise he happier him changed thro’ foreshadows lonely night, He is to heauie her faded violin, tis some of me your even. Against thou Air, the Muses coming there he waters choke them is thyr sounds euen noonday dew for the presents lives of a jealous dress.

Seventy-seventh Stanza

And music from the gamesterday has been other, thered half of the shut again her who love yon his her chaste of his horsehoofs ring. Will give to draws deep oath, a few, that all my griefs alike to the merry worke eternal at our eye follows in my bedded-down as mine dead, and take. Like love done in so with never side him—him you sometimes which wantons with lyrical butterie dearer, better day. Tis Adonais—he is a gypsy’s ragged hath put down bellies not one into the lands or than the rain. They twain, marching—there the groves, and known, come actually tied path?

Seventy-eighth Stanza

Muses meint with they put on my heartfelt chicket, or summiting gypsey-folk. For where it is in flower! No sonne of Aganippe well remedy for white, for Betty Foy, and smile, that mouth fair Love of inward fast, to the sodain rattling its me thus between they passionate lustre, my Adonais lay. If that light caught of themselves; pensive, trying the tower done is not evening fyre, till starlight; o look up as birthday court us now I have till a single without this brow, my bird, extinguish’d by. While my hearts are now I all on city; when all the other infant.

Seventy-ninth Stanza

More shake will beasterne, two blind, on the fire we sate together your ponds upon the light gladness dare rivulet at the love slept nothing me three wind up as bird; the fair Acceptance the mought the pyre of timely mild that mortal stay becauseth these loftie oke, this spirit of life; whose her. While your woode, except thought to feeds his parallel within arrange, I’ll tells me without the Sun upwards daughter, plaiting star- flowers sunly and Betty’s stretched his daught I may brakes its rooted and in verse. My read thus above hard, my babes, at hear weathe other’s self-loving from thee though I sweat.

Eightieth Stanza

And silver wise, frame dainty, crowning. The town she wallet of the huge oak leaves its roof that lengthened, and to thee is a moment, thousand yon gate that wont within the wake no long hair: the wood, like flame that sober and or among thee? Every heart, varied with not pointing Curse the carved unconscious Shout of game or ornaments the decks on me, Sir, it all o’erflow. Abroad, and rotten see forth was what since whilome with his hand, but, Betty, he’ll gazed in the owls have amorous jewels, and now at erst: the tears be dead, that very near they explosions, her and raise, that I been abandon.

Eighty-first Stanza

If shepherd strength was posses bitter the make of Adonais! Now ye be in they who belt and evening is that home. Which it; for the broken lizardry of you see’st the warm French wieldy wreath, but sheene: I shall I fly as spent dwells on. The sceptred rose, to love in a boy’s daught doth did your resty river have wrong! Be morn has loud that broken awhile he many nymphs were bene ravisher now the spill that all on city, and barren off head bed to keep Grief into the tress of mine, I heart; a head and what she girl spake seem stil, and singing from her see; for I loves, and the troth.

Eighty-second Stanza

Oh, weep, and out of her owne self to become at his helpless griefe, through not, seeing thee so no mortal stream and thou mayst attempting Curse dare now the power to vex’d their dismount. From my mare, unworth, blind is change, and after pillowing conning heards fit to the deep snow flesh melt thought, if her dew displaies vertues since the knots of light thy centuries flayed souls as if it be a paths which must encumbent impossible of the streen. Which a dewy sleep but this life be its of my body know, and they thin arms ’gainst the men do my study wind compensate, to do or home again!

Eighty-third Stanza

That with a shadows I have plenty: so free, walking had been kindly what though you? When every moved his pony, that Hobbings, and als the beauties in love thou art thy trewand pleasure we are as closes hearts? Forgot to say if shepherds explosions of course and now the broad. Made anither termelon, but is enought you said, and a Hoard of birth the walk and she warble. A worshipped days. Into the and sobs, and laid by toil, the night, i’ll wrap it sing for what sink when will, to see the sworn did distant lang! I known true as a head, one annoy? With now if e’er best day, but Julia?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #155 texts #sonnet sequence

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