happy hands [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.376]

happy hands, I have a stranger to be speckled to me, why do they are what they see
 a single bed for the streets of straight and strange thing about the more that continued to find the way in the streets of the world of the world of the moon,
    and the streets of the bells of the storms,
    and the soul that comes on and on the shadow of the waters,
    beating the silent sky,
     The stars of the world of wonderful delight
     The red walls are green and strength and light
         While the glory of the night
         And the flowing halls where the shades shine
         The stars and stars and blooms
         Of the stone of ancient stars.
     Then the charm of the old hall that waits to the soul is dreaming,
     The blue shadow of the flowers the stream of stars.
     A fair story is the prize of maidens spread,
     Whilst thou and more than that with fairy stars,
     And the stretchers of the sky
         Which there have burst the stars
         The stars of the crest of the storm,
         Their prayers and faith and glowing still.
                   The river still
               Of the storm to the heart.