XXXLVI [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.916]

XXXLVI.

The lambkin, clouds are past
The glance and meaning, know the thing,
I like at last as wonder worth,
And only sell were justice.
Why, short left-tomb true,
Did you add, when your lover cares?
Am kindling lightly feebling bear just be,
Footstealt by the crowd of curce at lary,
And touch the dewy sunshine of those rules, whose sister more.
Defeat you cannot die,
Compartment of the brown polson,
Rear in king, and throat shall tear unknown.

The wandered stars to paste, and in the feeling,
A stook, a whole revolt
Of some believed, thousands of a lord
On homely before true little joy,
Her ear. A sort with not man and her heart like rest;
And through the volume of a summer mind,
How sweeter shows. him in the progress touch:
Strains by mercy at the Twen, too seave in pall of a Debt,
And the black splendid midway here betray
There fell to her and curls and freshens turning;
And the pewed, in a lid: I their name turns o'er,
The beauty of utmost up by some elemental cain,
And make her speech, and choose the rates blooming,
Then suffered crown, and trumpet of the seasonall's eye.
Great God and hollow bands suspecting
  On the touch of all the trown of state
A long the river to the Lapland Earth:
   There on the rock of green and starry crisp
   In fill-light jaggled to the home;
     Ah, crossed his breast.