XXXVII [Full Poems] [Temp. 0.626]

XXXVII.
I meant to clung on you,
A pack of melody
Day I heard the soul to stand,
And knew the best of the rising lip
And would not speak before the trace
With a journey's bad morning
That makes the lineand stand
Her handsome search had been descended.
Why was it too a face, to do,
I'll say, and he in prey
Of all a maid so much:

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XXXIII.
THE SURMAROR.
The force is claimed a stranger tries to share
That we who toll so such a hard,
And the night now speckled there
If she said be extended
That winds blowidly as young men.

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XXXIII.
THE FUYITIS BRIDGERENCE.
Prophesy the choice, the proofs, the sunshine,
And sing the shepherd sights in my head,
And who put them to be done,
Push their oak and wink and land,
And over the streets and breath, and still
To for the darkness and with them
Mild are broken; and no, not even there are firmly
In the least land of the charnel horse
And behold the darkness, that delightful wealth
The distant mrittle blooming in the scholes
Of power, or strength to human at the gallant light.
Nor the meadow native there from every flow,
And the first portal on the hills and streams,
The shades of the haste, I knew who bivoups
   Through the magicians and whether the seas,
And larger glittering death should come
In them alone, and past these sea and morn,
And weary notes to stray. Amends before
Creep to the spot.
Then make the head of the space
That walks the bells of new-born starry knees
That hast a storm in strings a ken,
And proud and clear wonder by
The world of articles in strains,
Or in secret deadly frame
Then the may perish to forget
Thine even that the word stays there.
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XXXV.
THE BUTTERMSI.
To take the sky, a rosy corpse
I break a minor blood hath,
And where it mingles on the street,
And be the golden valley accents,
And there it singed a single grace
To show the tree where was the breast
That turned with wings the splinter's house
And grey northern storms spread them
And the lilies of the spring
The blooming wave that smiled their brow.
The veal upon the sky
The morning which the season shall not write,
And faint the sun of lightning scholes.
No more the level ends her in a sort
Who said with laughter and a rat,
And made him split of breadth of kings.
The spirit flits the lines of fire,
And in her sword and down the air
And her bright stealing stream.

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XXXXVI.
THE PERI.
The god is o'er a cherry row;
Here is the rose of pain,
And start the trees to stay;
In the route to start.
O friend, and so be lone!
   And the winds were heard at once
   And watched the thrones that in the sky.
The light pinched in silence,
  Stop the table first, and mark the rest,
And drink the dream that ever makes
A north and slavery a strength?
If thou shalt give your wings
To find your eyes and sweetness breath
And life will be to fail.

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XXXVII.
A FEET TO TO YOURALT.
The one who knew the cruel street
   The stretch of dark and broken chamber
   And the sun is sung, in battle-birds,
   Through melody of life, and fair,
And melts the virtue-stepping potent flowers.
The social world stands spreading through the right
And broad and length may be gone.

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XXXIII.
The strains of mine, the sun is strong
The sacred stove of me,
The strains of the bells at once
It shows them. The moon stands with the shades,
And partly tipped the streets
His belt a grace
Their patchs are backward,
And the wild men come a limb,
And uninquiring.
I do a heroes bid one
And revenge the little bloom
That spares the dead and silent spile
In cloud the river filling with the head of grass
For all the villages, and the even soul,
And first attire in the million days and night
They give them any harmony that were there,
And what the scene are in the morn.
Not to the deep distress of the sun beseems
And life as morning of the sky
In skilful fresh and care;
Then all the waters fill the tongue of rage,
And sitting still to inful hot the heart
Through the bravering and the pour of sense,
From one of superfignants a-sleep,
While the wind struggling in the throne,
And feeling where are telling your former didst,
And yet the heart will hardly speak the hour,
And only soft-forth with thee.
When Autumn stands a little boy;
And persupform shall be when he changes
The weary dead of many a seven rags,
And in the strength of the universal school.
   There is summer rank and smiling free:

As for the world with all the shepherds
  For the mountains from the stone
   As around her chains the flower sees,
And love, and great, a happy numerous way.
Then bears the starting fancy is a sight,
A deadeness on the starts and light
And still and breast of brown;
In that the wintry hours like dawn.
A wealth he went, and starved in traveller streams
A master of the thinnest lake,
And shakes he seen the spirit of the street
The downy and the meadows hung
That asked the courtier.

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XXXVII.
THE FARY.
His wanton soul the morning showed
The sweet distinction of the soul the sun,
When the crowd came out from cell to me,
And watched the hills beside the sight,
    And grew amid their cheeks and cheeks
Where in the darkness like a part,
   With pale feet will heave at last,
Or stare the world, with all the shells
   For the bright tree the fields and stars.
     Of all the blood will not some pale
       Where the heroes there is true,
         And, music was a child!
     Whilst the lonely devil that straight shared thy name,
         And the bells from the high sky!
     And suddenly the fairgr thou wert find.
     The place when the eye withheld a globe
               The crowd of pride--
         The tears of spectre stands!
         What larks the flower of flowers grew shining floating the
                                      In mossal spoke;
     Thou wert at the arch of the dead,
             You shall not see,
         Or they like spiders to the sea;
         My life be not to think at all the day,
         By beauty and a miracle.
         So be thy soul and death,
         They bent at me -- the gods of Nothing not strutive,
             My heart in harm to menging liars,
                   What will the overally words
                   Who does not stay?
     "Seeks me the soul who wore and gay
         On a sparrow.
     The meadows were a sign of bright
               Some low but not;
             And thine eyes seem to me,
         But what the hymns fall forth,
         We have the blue unto the sacred street,
                 When they turn and wear and smile
               With spread of the concolusant spectre
                   From the office of the soul traveling,
               And the rivulous mounts the swart
               The dread of the sword of man.
                       Like waters traveled,
         Approaching all our chalice stars,
         Who confided the world alone
               To many a stately town
         The lakes of departing thumb,
     Whilst thou thyself and round and color
         Stands, and nourished stars.
         The window bends at the trees,
         And comes down the stars are seen not track'd,
               Whilst the spirit burned a little bloom;
           Or breaking the soul will win;
         The blue trembling entertain
         Thou lost confide and sons,
         Or bright, and where full-world small tales
         Of all the lights of the many still
         By what surgery blows round
         Of the spiritive day.
     But on the midst whose scene he liked the rest,
         The waters cry the storm with fright,
     And stretches the westward schemes and winds
       In an ancient song.
     The storms of golden thoughts shall dwell
     The hand that proves the sea-frames staring into high dine,
     And yet her eyes that bring the dead dark spare.
     Then may the starry linen quickly reed,
     On the chance all to the homes of kings.
         How do I come to see,
         And she will find the storm
         Streaming when we ride
       And the right hand in his lover,
         And and they light and loud.
     "I reach the stars and pain.
     "Let us the wind be reach his fly"
         He too accounts at her charmed arms,
     Bright-walking brooks to close the greenwood clouds;
         Whilst ranging of the world, of streams;
         Far as from the storm the steep the rings and lakes,
         With rocks and sea, and black and bloom,
         In strength of glory like a glade
     With foul and fairer art, and that was there.
     Then those who hath the perfume to the stabbers see;
     A space breaks the world come back,
         On the crowd of fire; the stars of gloom
     Their gracious thought was their will live,
     On the forest that stands around the heather?
     One thing so pleased all one day,
     And all the spirit from the blood,
     The swinging wool of May,
      In the red lips seem
         To the enemy street
         And the decaying sea,
       Beneath the little lighter grove,
         For the spirit that heard the moon
     The winds which eye the fir-world flit away.
     Whilst not the shining winds so fair,
       The sun that now was blest so reason were sublime,
     Should faint amid the lonely stars,
     From the deck their breast the scenes of gloom
     Made winds, burn with the stream and spires,
      Thou stirr'd as they were fair.
     Then stanzas at the street
     And we protect the one
     That is the sparrow's deep the stone
     Where the morn will shake the swan,
     Besides the corpse of spirits fall,
      And the red and clouding heart can reach.
     Alace the deadland stone was past
     Of being the leaves unrolled the meads;
     And heaven some moment offers still
     A dozen glorious towers deemed of light.
     And not a man like an infideless lover;
     And many a crimson strength was red,
     And light and blood smiled for the day.
     But so my spirit of a muse is here!
     A sweet so they on their casement towers,
       The power of stone not sleeping clouds retire,
     And the while the rose the waves of river walk,
     And quiet thro' the ancient souls the world.
     Why give them to the careless clouds?
     How end thy ancient soul the sounds of eyes,
     And thy wondrous clown or gonder range
     My self are strong as though your spirits temple thee!