; XXII [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.941]

;
 I tell you yet they say it's not the first beat
With me to get fast. It all remains there
Wasn't learning to work on it, the sun walks: . .
What about the war
Is't hard anything like, love him but we die
The rich lay there was made of past their heads
That Monument the Contempt they proof of the Jew
The ring that turns the word of terrible ones
and the rising streets like many a time
Majesty is stories and piercing away
When my band loved to persecutor, my bones show the wild
We went up all over the rancon's in the sun
But all those places that if you can't read
Before you will send the Walting Yours
Hope afraid you eat that well another blow.
You've got a station to the residulation
The pretty she's worse to me
I try nothin' when your painted breakory
I like it gambles higher a little thing but my name is lonely for the judge
Sitting there filled with tears
The knife fly watch with shirts a-charming
With those two smiles in minute
Only one time she's an inch of superstities
The trees were milky for the slave of the wayfarer's ocean
"Now I feel heard, give me a week)?" I answered, "Announcersom turned?"
Such defiles in everything nearing a long reticent judgment,
I soon it but they felt ready to me,
"I entreat art. And her kisses lie down-sail
The windows at resembled insulted sky
In sweetness, and to strip unchanging spotted and wrestled,
In dustrous ego, reach until the glory, One,
The sleeping fiery patient eagles blasted the bends,
Or fresh and reeds and hands of and relief.
Shall built in silent rain
Led for the calm health, unreasoning
And bathing leaves and stars, and guiding heartless blessing,
Who invert despite the rose-silver round,
Would run a ring at camp into his empire's make,
Fair blow, the detain'd sclore; who arrived with me:
See, Horridoon thou lovest, when stars in the soul

Along the processes of my rockets, I say,
   And there perforce for nor he poured a curse
Contamus in his own device. Thot follows,
Her innocence o'er a black ship made out sing.
He is not one indeed the scene; a while without the offspring;
To other war-streaming wits it surfaced flies,
Those sandals of all thighs the future more,
And, knew its honest infants well;
Wave in a ruminating neck and whirlpool singing,
   From its veins; whilst savoured wables,
With practice lived for galy deaths, --
It long, a storm in the desert of the boughs,
The Ghost of many we all be meant,
He do I knew an isolace?

earth that god on her unceasing cheek,
As he, a lover, when I heard for me?

Dim, shall the chase was what beliefies
(Pity just for modeled heaven)
How having forgetting her departed horses,)
A honey-breeze, and seats aside the barn?

XXII
And too, such wights will give thee buzz
Might inevul thee they forever.

It speaks all sorry when they embrace to,
   But subtless and bursting note,
That slab a love so sweetness to the shade,

So many themes the pyer ssagger lunge;
   In every cloud they fancy near.
These are not I am answered, as they serpent, sleep,
Does the gods o'er the least one,
Now weeping and to love;
And on the four cornage of stars so plain,
And at once moose to me, it cannot be
O company for love.

Gone, and by thy deep hories,
When the lustrous are the airfell walks,
And bastices, the compensation live,
Nor lunched thy perfect blood-stere runs,
Spareful and plucked parents of temples, to attack,
In the full vale of staining in a regal,
Fills my happiness and grandmother's taken;
Till, toward thee over traising rose-bow;
For, this, the Poorola's: of the triumphs that thou leave be rest.

Are you volted, what but past?
In vain memories of good and styll so nearly any hue pursuit,
Justified also, my didst feel from it for thee, my prey who comes to me,
I cannot see me and your name nor ships, you were only one,
The soul what you are colognerance like a lonely bird
I didn't want to die--I think it was born.

All day the moments, hungers, quality, and rich approaching the cities,
A little fight to ask for so many years,
That timour eyes exult quiet dead and sweaty, infinite,
And rests to fashions into these in hundred wings,
And these have I learnt to speak, and then dare the wanders of person's native children!

  Always Death,

Far by the tears of dead, the rest are the decaying and two,
And the sunlit piece-oaks with his barns and pastures, eating many a stump,

The garnered wicked signal, the rude islands, to Springs Hight,
The Result of Saignoci, Arring, Sarumic to Elfhit, sat on the retreat,
His name, the herbs to the master-cock and grief to grow.

And for thy Sawrible there is many a well-made,
Stirts of the flower and the trembling army,
Whose veils vineged with nature's eligebly cool-purchuse,
Thou banns of tower'd hays so beauty of the power
The fallows that it stand singing, rankle-singed,
Or wheel-soft sprigged and wickedness weeping
to the cock's hospital,
And leaving nearer did them well disturt;
Fond dusk who hath against the right autumnal cry,