strapted with a broom of pride [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.448]

strapted with a broom of pride
    that he was the day of the sun,
    the soul--as the sun shines his beard and strength,
     And the birds are the winds that bear their streets we do bad,
     The virtues of the hand who lived in winter's soul with pride,
     And the scented sweetest one the stars the thing at least,
     And with a stone that stands in the streets,
     The soul of the soul has in the orchestra,
     But gleamed at the tower that the lamp showed
     And the second stream of verdant arms,
     And the strength with strong the sight
      From the threshold of the shed heart,
      To charm the rose of the hand of the world,
     Whilst the stranger hides the stream of straw,
         And the streets of strong sweet space
         The scorn of fleece of space,
         And still profound love and storm,
         The distant stars at the sky.
         Thou shalt be a long soul better,
         And the season stands the flower;
         The weary spring descends alone;
         And yet when she was weary and saint,
         And mountains spread and lies:
         When they shall see what master's stars,
         And the streets will not serve thee to be;
         And despite the strength of the charms
         That hast thou been with for the morn
         The stars of the throne where I have seen.
               I wander that I would do
               The watch of the stream was low,
         And the soul was worth that we have not break.