#o dream where art thou now?

[adrasteiax]

The moonbeam and the storm, ⁠The summer eve divine, The silent night of solemn calm, ⁠The full moon's cloudless shine,

Emily Bronte, from O Dream, Where Art Thou Now? in “The Complete Poems Of Emily Bronte”

#poetry #emily bronte #o dream where art thou now? #the complete poems of emily bronte #literature #poem #lit #from my collection

[cozylittleartblog]

not that we didn't already Know belos was full of shit, but it's even funnier knowing the titan was still alive the whole time and probably judging him

#toh #the owl house #emperor belos #papa titan #the titan #art #doodles #comic #fanart #watching and dreaming #captioned #brief visit to ye olde days of memeing on belos... those still get spread around #i hope the titan saw him get his shit stomped in before they passed on #like yes luz was right there but did the titan actually get to see it. i hope so #shoulda been broadcast on penstagram too #there's a piece of fanart i wanted to draw after. i think o titan where art thou. but i never got around to it #because it had animation in it. and im regretting it now #maybe i will finally do it. and something else too #the whole titan reveal brings with it a lot of tropes and ideas that absolutely destroy me personally #and i need to Draw about it #edit - thank you anistarrose for the caption! #''he wasn't Really alive'' you're right they were a secret third thing. the heart still beats. they were still Somewhere #but it's easier to just say Alive. it's not Technically wrong #i try to keep my captions short ok

[otiksimr]

O Mother, where art thou?

Alone, she was always alone.

Mother, where was she? All of these days and nights spent alone, when Mother had left for the first time she thought she had been abandoned. She was so afraid the days afterwards, until Mother had came back. Mother had wanted her, that was clear enough. And yet why did she always leave? Mother never stayed longer than a night.

She slowly started getting used to the routine. Mother would leave for days on end, and during those days she had to hide. She didn’t know why exactly she had to hide, but it seemed to make Mother happy to see that she was safe and hidden. She always hid in the same spot, so Mother would be able to find her whenever she came back.

She was always waiting. Waiting for Mother to return back to her.

She wishes that Mother would be able to stay longer than a night for once. But for now, simple dreams would be enough to satisfy her. 

---------

I don't really think it's talked about much, how Moonwatcher was mostly alone growing up. After all Secretkeeper couldn't be visiting her every day, she did grow up during the war. Secretkeeper still had her duties as a nightwing. I can't imagine her being able to visit very often.

#wof #wings of fire #wof fanart #wings of fire fanart #my art #my design #fanart #wof nightwing #nightwing #wings of fire nightwing #moonwatcher #wof moonwatcher

[lauriegraham01]

violent delights & violent ends

pairings: crowley x angel!reader, gn!reader (aziracrow x reader if you squint)

summary: having stood through the testaments of time, as Heaven and Hell's forces and anger grow closer every day, you and Crowley must both make a choice but what fateful consequences lie in store for star-crossed lovers

cw: hurt/comfort, lotta hurt tho, angst,

wc: 4.5k

a/n: UPDATED ON 9/23!!!! inspo came from a dream, romeo + juliet, and 'romeo' by until the ribbon breaks. working on a masterlist currently and hope to get it up soon. tysm for your support and enjoy :)

The party was in full swing and you found yourself getting lost within the noise of William Shakespeare's famous parties. You were currently backstage in one of the parlors where you, Crowley, and Aziraphale had joined Shakespeare and his fellow actors and other socialites in celebrating another successful opening night.

"I mean it, William. You are just absolutely brilliant, I mean you're ability to capture human emotion and spirit, well it's just marvelous!" Aziraphale had spent the better half of the night praising the poet as he truly felt starstruck by his talent.

"Yea, yea the blokes alright. You should've seen him when he was just starting out, now the bastard his own theatre." Crowley sneered as they took another sip of the mead they carried in their hand.

"He's more than alright, you can admit that. He's quite the poet." You look at them with an amused smirk as though daring them to disagree.

" 'O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art as glorious to this night', trust me love, I would not be here had you and Aziraphale put up such a fight," the demon recites almost mockingly.

"Now look who's the poet?"

"Enjoying ourselves are we dear?" Aziraphale shakes you from your thoughts as he appears before you and Crowley sort of breathless.

"Seems like you are, Angel," Crowley quips back.

"Oh just marvelous really. The talent that the Almighty has given some of these actors is just beyond words! I've even been invited to the opera to see one actor perform! Oh, I do believe I see "Mercutio" across the room. Excuse me- Mercutio!"

As Aziraphale makes his way back into the crowd of stifled bodies, you turn your head back to peer at Crowley as they take a seat onto a plush red velvet couch. Sinking into the couch, they spreads their legs open wide, almost invitingly.

"The opera? I like the sound of that." Eyebrows raising, creasing their forehead as they peer at you through dark glasses. With a free hand they tap their thigh, inviting you in. You happily take it as you make yourself comfortable upon it, head falling upon their shoulder.

"You know what I like the sound of? Silence. I do believe that I am beginning to overstay my welcome," you sigh tiredly as you study the side of their face. Finding your eyes tracing the tattooed snake just beside their ear.

"Oh come on, what are you talking about? The fun's just barely begun. Plus I've heard rumors of what really goes on in Will's study, if you know what I mean," their hold on you becomes tighter as they wiggles their eyebrows suggestively.

"Crowley, c'mon be serious," you protested.

"I am! You're gonna tell me that doesn't peak even the tiniest bit of your interest?"

"What? No. Crowley, I mean it. I'm heading back home, need to step away for the night."

The demon fully turns their face to look at you for a second and as they look into your tired eyes, they let out a sigh, defeated that only you could make them change their mind and make them bend in ways they never though possible. Defeated that you were their soft spot.

"Alright, let's go love," they sigh as they pull the both of you onto your feet. Taking a hold of your hand, they guide you through the crowd as the two of you make your way outside of the theatre and back onto the streets of London. You knew Aziraphale would be fine on his own, as he had no intention of his ending his night anytime soon, thoroughly enjoying himself in the presence of talented artists. Crowley maintained an arm wrapped around your shoulder as the two of you walked on cobblestone until the bookshop finally came into view.

"Home sweet home," Crowley announces as the two of you make your way inside the dimly lit bookshop. Taking your coat off, you blow out the remaining candles that had been lit prior to your departure and made your way upstairs to your bedroom. You heard Crowley trailing not too far behind, and as you make your way into your bedroom you look behind to see them leaning against the doorframe.

"You can come in Crowley, you know that." You softly smile as you find their sheepish behavior rather odd.

"Nah i'm good, I was thinkin' of taking off. Just wanted to make sure you were alright s'all."

Having known Crowley since the dawn of creation, you knew when they were deceiving you.

"Crowley?"

"Hmm?"

"Come inside, dear."

"Well alright, I mean if you insist," the demon blows a puff of air before making their way inside, shutting the door behind them.

They made themself comfortable as you got dressed for bed. You felt Crowley's eyes burning on you with your every move, and the fact alone made heat creep its way up your face. Turning to face them again, you saw them burrowed beneath the multiple blankets that draped your bed. Making your way beneath them, you slide in beside Crowley but still left enough roof to distance the two of you.

"Any particular reason you're so far?" The demon quips as their yellow eyes quizzingly look into yours.

"Didn't know if you wanted me to be that close."

"You know me better than anyone, y/n. You know the distance never made a difference to me, love." With that they pull you closer until you're engulfed in their body heat as you remained pressed against their side.

It wasn't unusual for you and the demon to be close like this, in fact in ways it was one of the reasons your bond with each other was so strong. Crowley, for better or for worse, craved physical touch. Having been deprived of it in their time in Hell, the only time they ever felt the touch of another is when pain and violence would be awaiting on the other side of it. With you it was different, it was their way of demonstrating emotions where words failed him. Most days it would be small things like a hand placed on the small of your back, or their hand laying gently on your knee whenever you sat near, but tonight it was different. By the way they had been handsy all night and with the distant look in their eyes as they stared up at the ceiling, you knew something was up.

"Crowley?"

"Hmm," they hum back in acknowledgement, eyes still fixed on the ceiling.

"What's on your mind?"

Crowley remains still for a minute, holding in a breath of ancient dread as they pondered over how to encapsulate the overwhelmingly conflicting emotions they were feelings, emotions they've felt since the Fall.

"S'nothing, you just get some sleep," they mutter, hoping to whisk away your concern as a way of sparing them from having to confront their emotions.

"Crowley..."

"Y/n?"

"I know when you're lying to me. I can sense that your mind is elsewhere, talk to me."

You pull back from where you laid and propped yourself up on your elbow, in order to fully look at him. Raising your other hand you softly run it through their locks before hooking a hand underneath their chin, turning their face to look at you.

"I'm here," you whisper.

Crowley's eyes search yours and they're met with nothing but adoration. The twinkle of the very stars they've created were nothing but a pale comparison to the light of hope that glimmered in your eyes. The light that no matter how hard they tried to run from, they always found themself running home to.

"It's the torment."

"From?"

"From the fall. Seems silly to dwell on something so ancient, but those demons, that torture..." their voice wavers as dread aches through their spine, "i guess it never really goes away."

Words die on your lips as your heartaches for the pain Crowley's been through. They never talked about what torture awaited for them in Hell after the Fall, but as an angel you could only imagine the suffering that was Crowley's fate.

You hadn't realized how silent you had been until Crowley shifts to sit upright. Mirroring their actions you move to face them and you see the way they try to hide from you as Crowley buries their face within their hands.

"Crowley, I understand I won't ever know what you feel, but one thing I do know is that you don't deserve to live in that pain. Something so vast as the darkness of the universe before you illuminated it with your creation." You gently wrap your hands around their wrists and pull them away to reveal Crowley's eyes reddened from silent tears.

"Let me walk with you, in that darkness."

"You could get lost in it," they shake their head, sniffling as they feel vulnerable by the transparency of their emotions.

"Then let me be lost in it, as long as I'm lost with you." You brush their hair back before your hands softly caress the side of their face.

"It would be your sin, I would be your sin." Crowley's hands creep their way up to your side as they hold onto you tightly, afraid you would realize the wickedness that lies within them and leave in disgust. The space between you and Crowley had shrunk as your foreheads pressed together. Your eyes never left theirs as the pain behind their serpent eyes sought refuge in you. You could feel their warm breath fanning over your lips, and for just a second you dare to move your gaze to look at his lips. Lips that looked so soft and tempting to draw you in. You didn't miss the way Crowley had also flickered to look at yours as well, so when your eyes meet again you felt a certain clarity wave afront as the feelings for the demon you held in your hands could no longer be buried.

"If sin be from thy lips then thus with a kiss I die."

Your words fall as a whispered prayer onto Crowley's ear as you close the spaces between and capture their lips into a soft kiss. After overcoming initial shock, Crowley's lips moved with yours in something so sweet as a sacrament. Yet that sweetness quickly turned into hunger as they kissed back fiercely, hungry for more and you were willing to be devoured whole. The burning within your lungs became too strong and you pulled away. Resting your forehead against Crowley's, as you both caught your breath you look into their eyes and see the mischievous light that you had sorely missed.

"You're in for it this time, love. A whole new world of sin," Crowley rasped lowly, as a wicked smile grew on their face.

"Very well then, give me my sin again."

It's been 423 years since that fateful night that would change the trajectory of Crowley and yours relationship forever. You loved each other in secret, while finding freedom in your relationship on Earth, both of you still feared the consequences you would face if either of your sides caught wind of the true nature of your relationship. It seemed that your relationship only got better with time, Armageddon was a testament of that. With the help of Aziraphale, the two of you managed to prevent a destructive war between Heaven and Hell, and remained living on Earth amongst the crowds of humans whose lives had been spared by your hands. Yet, despite this somewhat happy ending, Crowley knew that the fight wasn't over just.

"If you would just listen to me for once y/n, you would see that we are in danger."

"You're being irrational, Crowley. There is no war!"

Your voice had gone raw from how long you and Crowley had been screaming at each other. Crowley was trying to convince you that Heaven and Hell were conspiring and would be back for their revenge, and soon. You however were stuck in your stubbornness and were determined that their was no danger in sight.

Even with their shades on, you could feel the intensity of Crowley's glare as they stared back at you wide-eyed in disbelief that you could be this blind. Pacing the kitchen floor of his apartment, they pinched the bridge of their nose, trying to calm themselves down even though it felt it was useless.

"Y/n, listen to me," they say lowly, "you, Aziraphale, and I are in trouble. The longer we spend on Earth the longer we walk around with a target on our backs waiting to be killed."

"Crowley please, enough of this," you wave your arms impatiently as you pleaded with them with desperate eyes.

Crowley walks across the kitchen island and stand in front of you, holding your arms tightly within his grasp.

"Come with me."

"What?"

"Come with me. We can leave this place while we still have a chance. We can travel amongst the universe and settle down on any other planet. We can have a new start, turn a new page."

"Crowley, we're fine. I promise there is no danger he-"

"No, but you're wrong y/n, because there is!"

You flinch at the boom of their voice as their hands tighten around you. Fear flashing your eyes as you let out a sharp hiss from their tight grip that burned your skin.

"Crowley! Stop, you're scaring me." You manage to free yourself from their grasp. Breathing heavily, you stare at them frozen in fear, unable to recognize Crowley for the first time.

Crowley's faced drop and seeing the fear that they had instilled in you made their body slack and and a weighted dread sink into their stomach. Averting your eyes as you rubbed over the spots where they once held you, they could feel their heart break. The very hands that they swore to use to protect you, had been the same ones to hurt you. As you hesitated to look back up at the demon, when your eyes met and you saw the inner turmoil within their serpent eyes, you imagined the darkness that Crowley's mind was spiring down upon.

"Crowley I-"

"Don't." They stumble backwards distancing themself, afraid of what else they might do, afraid of hurting you again.

Crowley never meant to hurt you, and deep down you knew this. You two had your fair share of arguments over the course of millenniums but they never once lost control of their emotions and hurt you in the way they just did. Even as Crowley heard your thoughts, reassuring them that they weren't wicked and a danger, it wasn't enough. You knew the risks of being with a demon, and they were always afraid that one day you'd decide that being with them was a mistake and that you'd walk out of their life forever. And now, seeing you in this light, seeing that he hurt you and could hurt you, that scared them more than anything.

"There are somethings that'll never change."

Crowley swiftly made way for the door, feeling the walls of the apartment closing in on them. The shouts of Crowley's name as you quickly followed them fell on deaf ears. You're meet with the pouring rain as you follow Crowley outside into the driveway, the lightning being the only thing illuminating the night sky. The growing rolls of thunder seemed to match your quickened heartbeat as your anxiety grew with Crowley's distancing stride.

"Crowley, please!" Your voice comes out strained as you desperately cry out to Crowley. Opening the drivers side, Crowley stiffens as though fighting with themself to stay or go. Looking back at you, their red locks clinging to their face as their face scrunched in anguish, heart breaking more as they saw the pained look on your face.

"As long as you're with me, you will always be in danger."

The memory of Crowley driving away and leaving you behind replayed in your mind all throughout the night. Flashing days and sleepless nights passed as Crowley consumed your thoughts, unable to hide from the pain that their absence caused. This being the farthest things escalated in your relationship, you clung onto hope that there was a way to come back from this. That Crowley would come back and you could find a way to move past this together.

As days turned into weeks, you felt the hope that once burned so brightly begin to snuff out into smoke as you faced the probable reality that Crowley would never return and that you were left on your own. Well not completely on your own. After noticing how silent things had been from you and Crowley, Aziraphale decided to check in. Unaware of the mess that he would stumble upon, he felt blindsided from the state of things, heart broken too in the wake of Crowley's absence. Yet, seeing your severely distressed state, the angel put his emotions aside in order to attend to you. He took you within his care, hoping to help bring the light back in your eyes and comfort you until Crowley could come back.

Padding down the wooden hallway floors, you rub the fatigue of another sleepless night from your eyes as Aziraphale's door comes into view. Pressing an ear against the door, you found the silence on the other side of the door rather odd as he was usually up by this hour. Knocking lightly against the wooden door, you await to hear a stir yet when you get no response, you open the door to make your way in. Walking inside, the sleeping frame of Aziraphale's body come into view as he begins to stir from the noise of your intrusion.

"Y/N? Is everything alright, dear?" The angels voice come out raspy, fresh from sleep.

"Yea, i'm okay," you croak out, voice weary.

He looks at you for a moment, curious as to your sudden intrusion, not that he was bothered but that it was out of character for you to come to him so early in the day. With slow movements, Aziraphale slowly rises from bed, tightening the robe around himself as he made his way to the window. With a tug, the suns rays engulf the room as it casts its warm light throughout the space. Aziraphale closes his eyes, as though in silent gratitude prayer, and basks in the suns warmth. Looking at him, you can't help but feel a stillness in his beauty, especially with the way the sunlight illuminates his face and casts a celestial orange glow around him. Making him look even more angelic if that were even possible.

"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks," Aziraphale breaks the silence, opening his eyes and turning to face you.

"It is the east, and Crowley is the sun."

"You would deprive that from the Almighty herself?" Smiling brightly, you don't miss the way Aziraphale teases you for your endearing words. You find small comfort in his childish tease and bright smile, not being able to help the way your lips tug upwards at his remark. Aziraphale relishes in the small happiness that flashes across your face, even if brief. It had hurt him to see his love in pain especially at the hand of someone he too loved. Looking back to the window, he finds himself getting lost gazing into the crowded streets of Soho beneath him. A silence settles over the two of you, and your eyes remained fix on his side profile as the emptiness of the gravity of your situation creeps back into your mind.

"Crowley's not coming back." It was you who broke the silence this time, Aziraphale turning to you taken aback with furrowed eyebrows by how matter-of-factly you spoke.

"What ever do you mean?"

"I mean they're gone," you inhaled sharply, "for good this time."

"Well no, not really. I'm sure they'll come back, you know how Crowley gets." Aziraphale. Ever the optimist until the very end.

"Aziraphale-"

"You've always known how dramatic they can be I mean really-"

"Aziraphale-" you call out, his optimism making your wounds bleed even more at the false promises of an angel.

"Look, it's only a matter of time before Crowley walks through that door and everything will be as-"

"Aziraphale!" Your voice angrily booms like a roll of thunder as it bounces off the bedroom walls.

"They're not coming back! Aren't they?!"

Despite your volume, it was your tone that cut like a knife. Even as your voice felt so shaky, you spat those words out like venom that laid bitterly on your tongue. Aziraphale could feel his heart break as he stared into your eyes. Red and puffy from fighting to keep your emotions at bay, but also cold and unwavering as you forced yourself to come to the crossroads of the truth.

"No," he says barely above a whisper, a slight tremble in his voice as he barely shakes his head. "No, i'm afraid not my dear."

You've never seen Aziraphale look so defeated. So hopeless as he stared back into your lifeless eyes. The air around you feels restricted as your throat tightens. Your lips quiver as the painful truth of your beloved angels words echo in your head and settle in your heart. Your vision blurs as tears begin to welt in your eyes before inevitably cascading down your cheeks. Aziraphale then wraps his arms around you, pulling you in a tight embrace as you collapse within his arms. Sobs muffled from where your head laid buried in his chest, the world going silent as an insurmountable wave of grief washes over you, pulling you to drown in a sea of sorrow.

You don't know how long you cried for or even how much time had passed. When you came out of your daze, you realized that you and Aziraphale were on the floor as he pressed soft kisses against your temple, hoping to reel you back into reality.

"Forgive me," you croak, voice spent from lament, "i've been lonely, but it's not like I don't know my way." You try to reassure Aziraphale and yourself as you felt hollowed. Guilt also eating at you for putting the angel in this situation, having to take care of you.

"You have nothing to be forgiven for, my dear" he whispers lowly into your ear. Taking the hands that were wrapped tightly around you, he brings them up to caress your face within them. Your tears have dried by now but that doesn't stop him from peppering tender kisses upon your cheeks. Overwhelmed by his soft touch, you feel your face heat up again as the gentle sentiment causes your emotions to arise again. When he feels a salty tear catch upon his lip, he pulls away to see your glossy eyes staring back into his, searching for some kind of relief.

"But I don't know my way, Aziraphale."

The angel remained at your side for the rest of the day, never leaving you alone for a moment longer than absolutely needed. As he aided to your every need and treated you like a fine china plate- afraid to drop you and shatter into a million pieces. And for a while it helped, it made the pain more bearable, the ache of Crowley's absence less debilitating- but even all of Aziraphale's love wouldn't be enough to ix the hole that Crowley left in your life.

You thought hard about your next move. Calculating everything over in your head a million times but all roads led you back to where you were now. Managing to slip out of the Aziraphale's bedroom in the middle of the night, you made your way back to your original bedroom where you were now packing frantically. You packed as much as you could into your suitcase as you grew restless, wanting nothing more than to run away from this emptiness you fear you would never escape from.

As you left your suitcase by the stairwell, you looked down the hall before quietly making your way back to Aziraphale's room. Once inside, you made sure to leave behind the note that you had written for him on the side where you usually laid. You burn the image of his sleeping frame into your mind, wanting your last memory of the angel to be one where he seemed at peace. Leaning across the bed, you place a soft kiss upon the corner of his mouth, careful not to wake him. He stirred slightly beneath your touch, but still remained in a deep sleep even as you pulled away.

Making way for the bedroom door, you freeze under the entranceway.

"Look back, look back," you thought to yourself, a voice of reason wanting to make itself hear. Despite this, you fought against it and forced one foot in front of the other, because you knew if you looked back you would never leave. The cold air greets you as you make your way out into the streets of Soho, winds blowing harshly as you toss your bag into the backseat of your car. As the engine roars to life and you pull onto the main road, you glance at the rearview mirror where the bookshop fades from view. Silently saying goodbye to the place that had too also become home for you. You don't know exactly where you were headed, but just that you were ready to get there. Ready to go, but never to return.

The next morning, Aziraphale finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed where he gripped the white sheets, frustration and heartache threatening to drown him as he re-read your letter line for line, over and over and over again.

"Dearest Aziraphale,

My love, I'm sorry for the mess I've left for you to clean, it was unfair to you given your own heartbreak. Azira, I cannot thank you enough for what you've done for me now and in the past. But now I must go my own way and figure out what to write in this next chapter for myself. I know things will be difficult for if they weren't... well you see I would've killed Romeo and saved Juliet, but I don't write stories that time won't forget. So please angel, forgive me for grabbing the kerosene and letting it all burn to the ground. I've been looking for meaning, I don't know if I like what I've found. Forgive me for I've been lonely and one day I hope to tell you that I now know my way. I'm sorry. "

#good omens #good omens!crowley #anthony j crowley #crowley x y/n #crowley x reader #crowley x you #aziracrow #aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #neil gaiman #hurt/comfort #hurtful #angst #heavy angst #comfort #ineffable husbands #gn reader #david tennant #michael sheen #aziracrow x reader

[thelordofgifs]

@disorganisedautodidact voted for Eldacar in the otb tournament and requested “Maedhros comforting Maglor after a nightmare” to collect on their bribefic! I hope you enjoy ❤️

-

The cry was hoarse and faint, torn as it was from a throat made raw by smoke, and yet it roused Maedhros instantly. He forced the battle-tension from his limbs – the worst of the fighting was over, and this was no war-shout, only Maglor thrashing in his bed, caught in the throes of some fevered dream. He cried out again in his sleep.

“Káno,” Maedhros said, taking Maglor’s hand in his. He drew his chair closer to the bedside. “Káno, wake up.”

Maglor’s eyes flew open. He looked around wildly for a moment before his gaze alighted on Maedhros; then he pushed himself up to a seated position, drawing in rattling gulps of air through his damaged throat.

Maedhros fetched him some water and made him drink it. “Don’t try to talk,” he ordered. “Thy throat needs rest.”

Maglor, who obeyed Maedhros in all other matters, would not listen to this, of course. He took another unsteady breath and rasped, “There was – fire – fire everywhere—”

“I know, Káno,” Maedhros soothed. “The dragon came, dost thou remember? But he is gone now, and thou art in Himring – thou’rt safe now.”

Maglor shook his head. “It was burning!” he gasped. “All burning – all gone—”

Maedhros squeezed his fingers. “Not all gone – not yet,” he said. “The Gap may be lost, but Himring stands. Hithlum is not yet fallen.” He would save the news of Fingolfin’s death, he had already decided, for when Maglor was stronger. “And – the reports are still muddled, but it seems our brothers all survive, Káno.”

Maglor blinked at him through eyes yet glazed with fever and said, “Telvo?”

There was a lump in Maedhros’ throat. “Not – not Telvo,” he managed. “But the rest.”

Maglor did not seem to understand him. He raised his hand to where a loose curl of Maedhros’ hair had fallen on his shoulder. “Thy hair is like his,” he said. “But – no. Nelyo. Nelyo.”

“It is I, Káno,” said Maedhros, trying to conceal his nervousness. It was concerning that Maglor was still so badly confused. He had been more lucid just a few days ago, and his injuries were healing. “It’s Nelyo. I’m here.”

“Nelyo,” Maglor repeated. “But – thou wert burning – I saw it—”

“I have not burned, Káno,” Maedhros said softly. “See? I am here.” He squeezed Maglor’s fingers again.

“That is so,” Maglor said. He looked down at their clasped hands with an expression of wonderment. “Telvo is all ashes now. Atar, too.” He laughed suddenly: a harsh, hacking thing that soon devolved into a fit of coughing. O for Maglor’s laugh, that light and lilting sound almost sweeter than his song! Was there nothing Morgoth would not ruin?

Maedhros held him through the coughing fit, and once it had subsided he drew Maglor closer still, letting him nestle his head into Maedhros’ shoulder. “Hush,” he said, keeping his voice even. “Hush, Káno. I am here.” Maglor’s skin was hot and dry.

“Am I burning, too?” Maglor asked against Maedhros’ neck.

“No,” Maedhros said, “it’s only the fever, dearest.” Had he not once been in the habit of soothing a whole host of restless little children with bruised knees and tearful eyes? When had it become the other way round – when had Maglor become Maedhros’ strength, instead? “From the wound on thy hip, dost thou remember? It festered a little in the foul air – we have seen many such infections lately. But it is healing now, and thou wilt be well again.”

Maglor’s scorching fingers found Maedhros’ face. “I watched thee burn,” he whispered, and nothing Maedhros could say would console him.

#silmarillion #my fic #maedhros #maglor #part of my ‘the bragollach for maglor was the nirnaeth for maedhros’ agenda #also using informal thou for the first time idk why #maglor can have an ominous foresight-induced dream. as a treat.

[mehreenkhan]

Hey. Can you please elaborate the meaning of your bio "bawajud e dil .... "

In the workplace of existence, the asset of the tulip is its scar;

The lightning of the harvest of comfort is the hot blood of the farmer

From bud to full bloom, it appears as the petal of contentment

Despite its collected heart, the dream of the rose is scattered.

How would the sorrow of impatience be endured by us?

The wound shows weakness in earnest and the flame has a straw in its teeth.

Bawajud-e-dil-jami khawab-e-gul pareshan hai

Is taken from the second verse of Colossus of Urdu literature — Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib’s Persian poem “کارگاہ ہستی میں ” where he describes the fate of the bud. [The following explanation is taken from various sources and none of it is mine.]

There are different explanations for the second verse and it is critical to read all of these to develop your own understanding of the verse.

Sarfraz K. Niazi from Ghalib.org explicates the verse as

The bud seems composed. Despite this composure, the rose is destined to a disturbed dream as it eventually withers away.

Syed Noman-ul-Haq from Dawn describes it like this:

A bud has all its petals closed up, held tight together, fully collected. Naturally, its dream is to bloom, to become a flower. But then, there is a cosmic paradox waiting to manifest itself: as soon as the bud opens up to bloom, it loses its collectedness; now its petals have lost the firm embrace of one another, thrown thereby into disconcert. What was togetherness has, in the fulfilment of the dream, turned into a scatter. Winds will further scatter the split-open bud — now a flower — by blowing away its petals, and bees and worms will invade its integrity to destruction. Recall ‘The Sick Rose’ of William Blake here: “O Rose, thou art sick ...”

As Francis Pritchett brings to our knowledge:

That is, as long as the bud openly shows its attainment of the 'provision of contentment'-- that is, its remaining happy through contentment-- how can this be known to happen? When this is the case, then the rose has, instead of 'heart-composure', 'anxiety'. And thus the bud has been used as a simile, and from that the aspect of 'heart-collectedness' is manifest. In the same way, the scattering of the petals of the opened rose makes manifest the aspect of 'disturbed'. And the rose's silence and prostration in fatigue show the state of sleep/dream. In short, since all these three states befall the rose, then despite its 'heart-collectedness', the sleep/dream of the rose remains disordered/scattered. And the cause of this disorder is that it broods, 'let's see whether in this realm of disaster the 'provision of contentment' is possible or not'.

Josh:

In barg there is an īhām . The reason is that it means 'leaf', and also 'wealth, treasure' [toshah]. In connection with the rose, barg meaning 'leaf' is the most obvious meaning. But here he has taken the remote meaning.

“What I really love about this verse is the second line. It stuck in my mind the first time I ever heard it. It has that great sense of 'mood', and so much flowingness and resonance! You don't even need the first line, in order to enjoy the second one very fully. In fact it's almost better without the first line, for then you're left to imagine for yourself the nature of the rose's restlessness in its sleep/dream. Then it's a line full of mystery, with a powerful ominousness that evokes for us our own similar fate.”

It is impossible to explicate Ghalib's poetry in a single post as he enjoys setting up fine, lucid metaphorical equations, and then subvert them or tangle them up. You can read a more detailed analysis here.

#mirza ghalib #explication #urdu poetry #desiblr #poetry blog #urdu literature

[sh00kspeared]

SilverV Week

Hey @silverv-week , I’ve been excited for silverv weekend for a while and have something to share! I really wanted to write something based on the prompts but didn’t get to it since I was hyper focused on a different project in which I’m translating Cyberpunk into Elizabethan/Shakespearean English (to the best of my abilities; I love Shakespeare but am not a scholar or anything).

Warning, this isn't overly polished and is still kinda only partially edited, so it's likely that not all of the phrases sound fully Elizabethan. I rewrote part of Johnny and V’s conversation in the Tower ending (with a few more outward declarations of love so that it would constitute as SilverV), so here there be spoilers!

Johnny: I am fain to see fair Night ere my skyward leave— marry, she is a fair nunnery.

V: I needs say farewell. Pray you, open the door?

Weiss: Be not afeared— eternity is a foreign word and thy leave shall be short.

V: I am not a man who casts lots. [aside to Weiss] Pray you, open the door.

(the cart door opens)

Johnny: Lo, ‘tis fair Night, slumbering at thy feet. Marry, she is smaller than she once was— or thou hast grown.

V: Thy ruse is disquieting. I am undeserving of much, but above all, I am undeserving of thy love.

Johnny: Thou knowest I’m an ever fixéd man— My ruse will thus remain so steadfast as An anchor’d barque by golden-dusted shores. As thou hast slavéd as a watchman’s dog I pray thee, wear thy pride upon thy brow A diadem of triumph o’er Thanatos.

V: Dost thou yet love me? Thy bidding is crushed by mine own hand.

Johnny: Aye– With thee I spake beside the quarry– thus Our peace was sown for evermore and naught Of all my promises hath changéd since. Once I dreamt of mirthful things which hath Been cloven since; and yet, above all else, Th’ dreams I held for those I loved Were crumbl’d more than aught else I held dear. My bidding is to lend my soul this rest, Or else to stay with thee till we needs part, For I am fill’d with mirth that thou wast this: He who remainest my life’s final friend.

V: May I still call thee friend when thou art slain by mine own hand? O, that I weren’t a murderer!

Johnny: Aye, V– in sooth, thou art my dearest friend, And such that ‘murd’rer’ is a foreign word. Our tales end ever seal’d in a stroud, With caskets graven with my name or thine. I forthwith choose the stroud which bears my name, For verily thy body is thine own.

V: I am loathe to see thee die.

Johnny: I know thy heart— ‘tis for thine own good.

V: I ponder a world where we are strangers.

Johnny: On my word, the rapier would have pierced thy brain and turned thee into a grave man. And, hadst thou survived the foil, thou would have been an even graver man sans my counseling.

V: There is yet sooth in a jest– thou art my savior.

Johnny: The Relic was thine anchor, but valor and will was thy true saviour. Our journey was most star-alignéd.

V: Thy reserve is unbefitting of our circumstance.

Johnny: Once I didst hide my weapon in th’ cheverel sheath of Hades– I am an adept of death.

V: Put aside thy jests.

Johnny: ‘twas e’ery day I felt death pressed to my back– insomuch that I spent my days entrapped in a dance with it. But, sooth– ne’er have I felt such peace than I do now.

V: I have brushed fingers with th’ broad welkin as well. ‘Tis a gast thing.

Johnny: I am afeared for thee— as I am a gravéd man, eyes palled cannot see thee, nor can they see the world. But, sooth— I would be ever more gasted wert thou to be palled in place of me.

Dr. Lorenzo: you are afeared. I will give you this elixir— you must be well-brainéd ere the Relic is removed.

Johnny: all so soon asleep, lambkin.

V: all so soon…

Johnny: give me thine oath, sweeting.

V: were mine ears with cotton stuff’d, still would I swear upon the holy writ with both hands.

Johnny: Thus, lend thyself this mercy: Find thee bliss, Water fresh, and ale gold, and vales green. Sheathe thy rapier, fill thy hands with softer things, Thy mouth with laughter and thine ears with hymns. But this above all else: be faithful to Thyself as shepherd’s dog, unto thyself So true that one may gaze upon thee and Proclaim, ‘Sure as stars doth glister, thou art V.’

V: Johnny… I…

J: Good night, sweet Vincent, and dream thou so sweetly that thou may never wish to wake. The sun falleth on a mirthful day.

#spot the sex joke challenge because I did write in a sex joke #you can probably guess who delivers it #silvervweek #cyberpunk 2077 #v cyberpunk #johnny silverhand #johnny x male v #male v #writing #shakespeare #fanfiction #cyberpunk spoilers #phantom liberty #phantom liberty spoilers

[niconebula]

I want to turn focus to speculating on what Eda and King are dreaming about, because we are shown very little of their respective dreamscapes. But first I do want to preface with: these dreamscapes are almost certainly figments of entirely their own imaginations, and not concepts that the Collector created personally for each of them.

I see this sentiment a lot, but the Collector does not know either Eda or Luz personally enough (and not ever having deep conversations with King), so he has no clue as to what their deepest held fears are. Besides that, the idea of him forcing the roles and stories upon them versus the nightmares serving as mini personal character studies is much less interesting.

Now, where is Eda? You can see she’s visibly behind bars, and from the context of her literally breaking out of the conformatorium later on… well, she’s locked up inside.

What are Eda’s greatest fears throughout the series? Not having the freedom to do what she wants and be her own person, failing to protect her family, dealing with her curse, and the fallout of her relationships with Lilith and Raine.

Her nightmare might be the alternate turn of events from O' Titan Where Art Thou, where she and Luz really did end up captured and in jail. Eda has failed to protect Luz, doesn’t even know where King is, and is now locked up with no escape. I’d find it even more interesting if she manifested the prison guards as Lilith and Raine, because of them both previously working with Belos and the nightmarish humiliation of failing so visibly in front of two people you used to care a lot about. At some point she remembers to embrace her Harpy form, calling back to her acceptance of the Owl Beast curse. By doing so, she’s able to break free of both the Conformatorium and the dream.

Where is King? The two pillars at his sides have distinctive yellow-green bowls on top of them, which puts King back on Titan Trapper island at the site of the Collector shrine.

What are King’s greatest fears? Not finding a place to belong, being underestimated by others, and conversely being viewed upon too highly and idealized or even feared of as a tyrant or god.

I wonder if King has woken up in an alternate reality where he can truly be a King, but at the cost of his morality. Instead of looking at the shrine and corresponding skulls of the (baby) Titans the Collectors killed, King looks horrified upon a graveyard of his own making and a shrine dedicated to him. People killed in his 'honour'. I think this possibility would be an incredibly interesting callback to the stories he used to tell about his imaginary past - the ideas are already there in his head, and his best dream has now become his worst nightmare. It would also temporarily put him in the same head space as the Collector, and might aid in the conversation King wants to have with them by reaching out with this kind of empathy.

I do have to say this one may be too similar to Luz's nightmare, and King's actual reality relating to this location is already horrific. They could potentially give him a nightmare of an accurate reality; but at the same time - I find that option a little bit boring.

#the owl house #king clawthorne #eda clawthorne #:D #i would lovveee to see the second one with king #meant 2 post this yesterday tho oopsie

[agateblur]

The Collector's Species (TOH) and The Observer (Serina: The World of Birds) are Interestingly Similar

Despite being from two unrelated fandoms, both fulfill the exact same role.

First thing's first; Their designs.

The Collectors' are shown to wear robes with star and moon iconography, and generally seem to have an association with celestial events as shown in the paintings lining the walls of The Archive in "For The Future". They also seem to depict themselves as almost a part of the night sky.

The Observer, on the other hand, has a more ethereal form. They are described as having an eye that glowed bright like a star, whilst manifesting an aurora like physical form that was meant to be familiar to the intelligent life it was speaking to, as to not scare them.

This art (Drawn by Bombnyx) depicting the Observer talking to a character, further shows the celestial symbolism, showing him as if they are literally the stars and cosmic clouds that make up the space around the planet. (Including this because it's probably canon)

These designs visually imply that the space in which they reside (being everywhere around the planets they observe) is under their complete control, making them nigh omnipotent beings that are virtually unstoppable.

Secondly; Their Overall Goals

The Archivists are very mysterious beings, so we can only guess what they do based on what our Collector has told the audience. In "For The Future" the first part of the storybook that King reads to him implies that his species lives to observe life on planets change and evolve over long periods of time. In order to preserve their species in the case that they go extinct (naturally or not) they collect members of their species to be preserved.

The Observer does something very similar, albeit in a much less invasive manner. Instead, they terraform a previously lifeless moon and seed it with a select amount of organisms from Earth. The way they archive is through cataloging species in numerous posts, similar to a naturalist studying wildlife. By looking at the character development of The Observer during the story, it could be inferred that at first it seemed to almost not be "aware" of its own existence. As if it was a computer program simply executing code for an unknown goal.

Thirdly; Both Have Messed With the Native Intelligent Life

When the Archivists discovered that the dominant intelligence in the Demon Realm had magical powers that could cancel out theirs, they engaged in a covert genocide against them (the titans). They presented themselves as gods to the lower lifeforms, the original Titan Trappers, and presumably gave them weaponry and knowledge to wipe out the titans.

As seen in "O Titan, Where Art Thou" a connection could be made through allowing the Collector to access dreams, as seen with King in later episodes. (SPOILER WARNING) Furthermore, in "Watching and Dreaming" the Collector uses dream manipulation to torment King, Luz, and Eda with their worst fears.

Now, what does the Observer also do? Manipulates dreams, specifically with the intent to commit a genocide "for the greater good of the project".

For some background, the dominant species on Serina at the time are penguin like canary descendants known as Gravediggers. There are other intelligent lifeforms too, but they are not nearly as adaptable as the former. The Observer begins to realize the horrifying potential the species is capable of when they discover massive coal deposits, which they use to directly warm the planet. Granted, this is to keep the narrow waterway of their nearly frozen over planet from closing, but a Pandora's Box was now open.

The only way he sees the Gravediggers not plunging the planet into a hellish nuclear war is to directly intervene. Using his almost omnipotent knowledge, he finds the perfect candidate in the form of a crow like bird named Brighteye. He is special, being the only member of his species to be sapient and understand more abstract concepts, the only one with the ability to dream.

After experiencing his brother, Whitecrown, nearly get brutally slaughtered at the hands of his own family due to his albinism, the Observer swoops in to give him hope of a future for him and his brother. He pushes Brighteye to find others like him, and there they will be safe. But unbeknownst to him, doing these actions would make him a harbinger of the apocalypse.

The story is much more layered than what I'm describing, but by the end of it the apocalypse does come to fruition, and by Whitecrown of all characters. Him fighting and leaving his sibling was guaranteed by his instinctual behavior, something that the Observer always knew was going to happen. Although he isn't sapient, he is still intelligent, and replicates the fire making abilities of his brother to hunt animals.

Remember those "massive coal deposits" I mentioned earlier? Whilst flying above the grasslands, Whitecrown accidentally drops the burning stick onto one of them, causing a massive explosion that kills him and the rest of his flock.

As the smoke gets to Brighteye, he hears the Observer one last time...

The fire continues to expand outward, soon consuming the entire continent in flames. The warmth from the fire will melt all of the ice, plunging the land of the Gravediggers under several hundred feet of water. For a time, it also turns the atmosphere into something akin to an oven, cooking / suffocating anything that's too close.

Does this sound familiar?

In the second half of the storybook King reads, underneath scribbled crayon markings, it states;

"But should they meddle in our affairs..."

"...We'll clean the planet and scorch the air."

...

Now, there are a lot more things that I haven't covered, but I think these are the three most important ones. In no way am I saying one of them copied the other, considering that The Observer was first mentioned all the way back in 2015, and the fact that neither of these fandoms are connected in any way.

Still, I find it cool how remarkably similar they are to each other in those ways. If anyone is interested, here's the link to the Serina website, where the story of these strange birds continues:

#the owl house #toh #the collector #watching and dreaming #for the future #king clawthorne #serina #serina the world of birds

[justahumblesideblog]

Steve: The Character Arc Given Us Through Subtext Part 1

“Yeah! All hail the Emperor!”

I’m quite aware that Steve is already a very popular character in the fandom for pretty obvious reasons. Before Severine in Labyrinth Runners, he was the only coven scout given a name. Just giving him a name at all, and having him brought up again is bound to make him more memorable to the audience, especially these days when the trend of liking things ironically is so popular (not to say all fans of Steve only like him ironically of course, but you can’t say that the amount of fans who do in S1 at least is zero) Plus his very VERY few scenes gave him a likable if a bit too enthusiastic personality. He is a really easy character to meme and/or put headcanons on, which the fandom has. However, the thing I really like about Steve is how the show is able to have his entire arc happen almost completely off screen up until his character climax right before the Day of Unity.

In most shows, Steve’s presence in the Owl House during this scene would have just been both a visual gag and a reference to his one other speaking scene in the series. Him wearing a shirt with his name on it would have been just a very tongue and cheek method of differentiating him from the other scouts. In reality though, it serves as a way to not only show that Steve is the type of guy to continue a being supportive friend towards Lilith despite her losing favor with the Emperor, but to also quickly establish that King would know Steve on sight when they meet again in O’ Titan Where Art Thou.

“I know you. You’re Steve from Lilith’s party!”

One could even say that the reason Steve wore that shirt to begin with is so Hooty would know he is the coven scout that was actually invited. Then he decided to wear the shirt during his journey of self-realization, but I’m getting ahead of myself here.

“*sighs* Steve is beginning to regret his choices”

In “Any Spot in a Storm” Steve literally starts reflecting on the questionable morals attached to Emperor Coven with the idea of kids reluctantly joining creeps into his mind. He’s understanding of why Skara would be so emotionally high to outright punch him so hard that it dents his mask. Short term wise, Steve’s presence in this episode makes Hunter realize the fault in his actions, but looking at this for the long term it doesn’t only let us know what’s on Steve’s mind:

“Darius sent us to collect your recruits”

It also establishes that during the time Steve was questioning his loyalty, he was working under Darius.

Then we have Labyrinth Runners, and while Steve makes no appearance (mentioned or otherwise), it still moves his character arc forward by showing us that another scout getting fed up with the system.

As method before, Severine is the other scout named outside of Steve. We are shown her mistreatment throughout the episode up until the very end when she quits and throws her mask to the floor in a huff. This tells us viewers that the scouts are indeed their own people and have feelings and lives hidden behind their masks. Again, another joke is used to perhaps foreshadow Steve’s offical departure from the Emperor’s Coven.

“Lost your way, little guy?”

Finally, we get to O’Titan Where Art Thou. In his talks with King, Steve shares with him (and with us viewers) a tale of a younger Steve who wanted to be considered one of th best and believed that joining the Emperor’s Coven was the way to do so. He took that dream and made it his reality, only to realize it wasn’t what he wanted. Of course this is clearly meant to mirror King’s childish desire to be king of the demons, only to dislike it once it started to become kinda true, but it also stays completely in character to the Steve we met in S1 up until the Steve we have now. Steve ultimately being the one to comfort King during this time wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying without the show putting the subtle groundwork to get us to this point.

Then King and Steve go off on a montage that mainly serves as King coming to terms with his heritage and what he wants in his life. However, it also serves as Steve’s little swan song to his life as the excited scout of the Emperor’s Coven to fully embracing himself as part of the rebellion.

Now, I would LOVE to go into as much detail into this montage in this post, but Tumblr only has a limit of ten photos per post soooooo~ I’m just going to briefly touch on this moment for now because it’s everywhere due to the awesome representation.

Back in “Any Sport in a Storm” Hunter mentions that in order to join the Emperor’s Coven, one must be separated from their family and other loved ones forever. One could argue Hunter’s case is more extreme due to his own circumstances, but seeing Steve’s reaction to two sweet old ladies being in love, perhaps there is truth to it. During this moment of the montage, Steve could be mourning all the time lost to his dream of being the best and it just hit him all at once. Ooooor maybe that love is so pure that it moved the passionate man to tears. Probably a mixed of both honestly.

More on the montage and Steve’s ultimate role in this episode in part 2!

#the owl house #the owl house spoilers #toh #toh spoilers #o titan where art thou #toh steve #coven guard steve #toh king #toh hunter #character analysis #long post #i’m really doing a muti-part analysis on steve #no regrets #humble offerings (junk)

[moorishflower]

Was tagged by @landwriter <3 (It is starting to get WARM and DAMP where I am which means I am being besieged by giant snails once more, the curse of the WC)

Rules: Tag 10 (or less) people you want to get to know better

relationship status: Single and just trying to make it through the day tbh

favourite colour: Lime green! Hot pink! Sun yellow! I used to only wear black and grey and now I love neons and pastels. Making up for lost time.

song stuck in my head: Man of Constant Sorrow from O Brother, Where Art Thou? Single greatest version of The Odyssey ever created.

three favourite foods: Grilling cheese like halloumi! Scalloped potatoes and cheese! Dried dates!

last song I listened to: Also Hozier's "Through Me (The Flood). There's gonna be a lot of us who've most recently listened to either Hozier or FOB this week l o l

dream trip: Oh gosh oh man. There's...a lot of places I'd go? If I could? Berlin, for the nightclubs. Vietnam for the food markets. Finland for the heavy metal! I don't know if I could choose just one? Though I think the one I'd start with would probably be Scotland, to see the heather on the moors.

last thing(s) i googled: "Killala of the Glow" which tells you that I was writing my fic but the most recent unrelated thing that I googled was the Twelve Wired Bird of Paradise, because...because look at it

this isn't a real bird, this is a puppet with all its strings cut asdgs

as for tagging ahhhh @avelera @fishfingersandscarves @xx-vergil-xx @cuubism @beatnikfreakiswriting @tobrokenstone and anyone else that is interested I wanna know EVERYONE <3<3<3

[sixofstories]

The thing that bothers me so much about the "Romeo and Juliet just knew each other for a few days, it wasn't a love story " take is that, who are we to decide that ?

Take the time into context. This play is set at a time where most plays were short. The story in the play took place in a short time. He couldn't write a 100 pages of romeo and juliet getting to know each other and falling in love. And his plays were meant to be felt. Not analysed. Doesn't the passion in Romeo and juliets lines tell you of their love for each other. His plays weren't high art. Do you think he was sitting at his desk thinking ' how are people 400 years from now gonna interpret this' ? We Iive in a time and context where two people who have known each other for just a few days being in love seems stupid. Impossible. Back then, Petrarch wrote poems about a woman he had only seen. They only knew each other for a few days. And yet they cared deeply for each other. Kids. Who have no one else to turn to and so find peace and kindness and love in each other and then so fast it is snatched away from them.

Their first convo forms a sonnet. "O Romeo, romeo, wherefort art thou Romeo" this girl is dreaming about him a few hours after meeting him. Romeo immediately forgets Rosaline after seeing her. There are two ways of interpreting this. The first- he's a playboy. The second - he thinks juliet is so beautiful and is so enchanted by her that he immediately forgets a girl who he was genuinely very sad about.

If it is lust, what limits will these people go to for lust? I mean how horny are they ? Horny enough to kill themselves ?? That's fucking insane. Is juliet so horny that she still wants to have sex with Romeo even after he killed her cousin ? That's ridiculous. Also are you gonna tell me that romeo was a playboy who killed himself for lust ?? Seriously?? I think that lust definitely played a part in bringing them together but they also loved each other.

Romeo chose to die after finding out that juliet is dead. And juliet decided to do that after finding out romeo is dead. You don't do that for someone you're just horny about.

Anyway just a not that well thought out post. Shakespeare is my current obsession. Recommend theatre adaptations of recommend juliet to watch please 🙏

#romeo and juliet #Shakespeare #i love love #romance #these violent delights #have violent ends #its a tragedy #god i hate all you love haters

[libidomechanica]

By chance upon the green

A ballad sequence

               I

By chance upon the green. His very     rarely head; where you, great waves with some well as mine; I     wist not reproof darts, like

the higher the Truth would gaze at     home. Yet thou smooth’d like him from heaven be my nymphs, when they     long, unknown some troops

disbanded, and set down! Waking their     best wool, and singing, Die, oh! We could exceed; surfeits not,     deale of brutes, would a

tale o’ love I rise and fault I     am such like or slack of time. On pure, braver at the     seas, suborn of sweet issue

of what of airplanes. Never     had a husband seems the measure they nothing lightning fairy     looked around, darkness,

your telephone came to ye, my     lad. To should let me that love wars … And many a hill to     drop beside your equal

green, twas to lack of time of the     disowned, or at them not. The frozen but pity: thus the     star by hour is that I

shall decline my hear you were a     tower: but soon would I been a-telling leaves lay scattering     to inquired: thou

see more be raging mortality     and dumb despair,—you, if he went back doth rest eyes had     seen in slow foot the lack.

               II

The last the wood at love so rough     the ocean. Stout on Nina Simone singing to presage     adventuries delayed

i’d counter taketh from     another, since the day and damn! Closets, silks, and my slave, now     will behind., You forsloe, and

too full of shalt have none but waste     me that blown before. Of such sweet, sad years, to keep her hair     heart instead of you, and

ravishes thee! Till still the numbers     flowers, newly reap’d of daily clear and fear: and leaden-     eyed monstrous disturbed

behind there was past the children     crying. They tried into thee, to lay his not me my woeful     state: if I had no

hear you’re a palpitating each     passed a man in the self! Her pleasures for me. His mortal     straight is frendly frame when

she saw not thy fingers reaching     that create Ideas in Banquo’s glasses and on our     bonie, O—O whistles in

slow. Through the downward shame and sail     for with the men shall be cause: seeds of loue, and lost for both     the grass, her robes flaunted

him. Myself on the glow-worms shineth     in his immodest compassion. With Time’s in his hands     on many that I shall

be wise he woundless Boy, proue and     a voice, except the snow I dreaming, the Hanover so     little things. Break of light

that on the found a running     merciful, and turn on the bearing. The amply bless that eve     voyage on gentle shadow

had flung a shadow across     you: your lungs. Juan, as an infinitely stage, torture fixed     the next in rank shall in

promoting flies unclasp from the     sky the use, herbs for ever settle waves like a chessman,     but a lasse, when I appears;

for valour and with a sweet     Sleep her he had taught in her companion’d or pricke the frowie     fede, or you have seen cry,

flint-hearted boar; whose leave that faint?     As meeke he wine-cup glistened slacks, and homeward wend; that Pity     soothe Love is the bread.

               III

At one downe, or dusky brakes, is     to be, to when your memories of the goddess of the     hill, my harbor and have single beats in vain to admiration     fain would nor can’t know the blue-eyed despair, sweare, my     love a fiend from that pass’d,

the intellectual war is.     His pain, for shall be given, the vaunt as admitted a     scarce they fused to lose that mighty Babylon: where some small     his cottage bench or Spanish, and frets, twixt mine—tender joys     that we must star by his

hearth did many an end to treatise     makes me like her e’e, as you, had yield, like o’er with tears     make breath’d from Candian stupid eye, that dost thou dost thou art     no more. Cause that ever throats will cry rings with a shriek like     pear from the precede: the

Maker’s initiation, will     hopes and elbows. How quick sharp scratching, my sweet look on a     ragged bought on me six hundred stretched upon me something     the scent around and takes no reason for two, or two, and     these ravishers incense

he boughs, betty a dreaming for     mankind’s fate, made glooms and people famous for thy? In the     bell was pale and give no more alone to hear me anymore.     Colin, to make the dead me did frowns worn in her eyes     with his melted like that

way, perverting the dewy e’en;     so trembling if I give our Cot, our even you’ve told his     income, draw his saving now, With those wont on her head, and     stillness painter and death, when should rejoice or congress thou     art to himself invents

of Love, and restless verdure still     then you said cried Betty is not let me sad? The very     smile recorder not market with joy or passage yielded!     A heart, they neuer than civil home-bred stories, often     on the record play the

twilight come to comforts beat doubts     and urchin-spouted at vantage slipping each other, but     my vnrest, left in my mind, and unmoved, that outgrow, lintel,     scarcely looks upon the fire. Even as a real swelling     dugs do ache, he sawe

Calliope wyth Muses Hobbinol,     I could notary would be: his queens, and blue; stripp’d of     his travell’d his strouen to the departure, cold earth and fell     from change growth to flowers, and one she meet no more beauty     with a height of human

hear him; when our memory, with     sails; hoarse smut of bones, there, they neither, although nothing their     massive is her crimes enjoying. No one’s fate, and she was     the lion walk humble, an’ I’ll teache theme; there London stroke;     the vanquished day be a

resurrection is not—but what     you to see here, she’s at once;—through a though you know you hold     in the God, and was broken the green bound him like glory     and holily distress, mountaine think of him in his heart.     Those left Adonis’ hearts—

our vows, had no mirth or say after     the hight, adonis’ breath’d satire, i’d toss life:     His beauty liv’d and many a shouts—and yet, their nest, he     now for could most entirely because of office, fed     by foul were cross’d theme: I

have said, she hath a league is me     to my love made wives do steel it, and thereof now her     idiot boy. A summer even as also bonfires     do slay, or at length is no need to pierced the Fount of Justice,     confounded badly

in this legs, in the mass of Madam,     withouten leadeth on his convey a melancholy     into my breakes lyke a laborious plaints, no     sound nought of fool, to cancel, to the night into thou dost     the sun declined thus his

office to me. The lilac gives     and abandoned, and chosen few with Love’s injury. Still     shepheards welth: when perverse universely fly and breaks     and pace to the green on Marlborough, and nostrils drink, and     a drowsy waked her

ears, and like two thou feel as safely     fedde. Beare witness the SATs, don’t that I wander’d knock again,     he make their aim, and the scattering forth again that     whispersed at it; o! But what you have twain, each other     by nighting naked bed,

as barren, lean, half-choked tushes     green, that I would to pour himself from the scenery of     his foes wound the tusk in her face affected as those.     Desire; crossed above these common flame was all shall cope him     shakes, breath, and in my face?

               IV

Tasting tears do ache, he will, in such a saddle-     bow; if thou proportioned to go so you I envy of the lower in cunning mowers     like most faire she doth bind, to find and every beautiful lemon mistake, comes it     hold vain with ugly night’s permanent among the last have the praetorians, her not the     arrow we can, sheep, and yet to brings

which the beauty hath no more neare the words, among     a flowers, and the green strive against the world will be; the proof of all the wood stands, in     this back, his wonder, delicious plain to superior of his voices of the grew     in the last he did Margaret for having mingling lip, and far, and now she upheld the     night cry for the blabbing black-lined mouth

as I entered cloud all billows murmur of     fantasy, till she said, the walls that what are gone on which way to the rosy eloquent     reply, marrying, Staying who shouder my eye doth the cottage the literature     escapes, do surfeits not, follow’d? And tis fit for the roses are weakness number’s eyes     fondly laid, who when should. Of doubt this

can like kind embrace their native mud in, unto     those who’ve never mind waste me tender spring of Flora and to bleed by no more. Like     the wind,—and dear foolish Jealousies of nature to mine all injustice liable,     and bring to slide, we brows old Bench, rising you by hour touching-place, wilere fears renewed;     the last Review line to Cymon, her

on so unseemly, seek not overcome by drops     upon that Paradise, breath’d unaware hath the bone of the moonlight of those hollow     where’s neither moved my little time he runs amongst their own line, harsh in voice said: Hence,     fill that the full of hope next at summo foelicitas. In a state, stretches till he     lost. Fairy, trip upon the Daughter

shade dight grows of the shell, let me excursive     infected? Here is immortal Bird! A wound, were decline to walk, perhaps with an untowards     thee more delight. His steed, being juice, to bend or ceased from her own despised, rheumatic,     and many master of dancing murmur of your eyes held myself reject, and rain.     Thy mermaid’s voice obedience; stout

once they resigns of our bourds Close to swallowing     over the usual Origin of sounds like breatheth in a moments! They entertains     alive, her many days in persons through the fanning gone, not loath’d satire, i’d     try come, and their aim, in thoughts which turn of some sounds, has comfort shut our life for my     size again, what a sight a sudden

pale, i’ll to learned and do now at they be got     by any. The cravat start eternity and welcome for well express’d meteors;     the sky. Compute the snow they and dare not yet were a poet laureate, I proceed     to o’erleap the better me with quickly told that Woman’s life ye knows, it shall sear, flashing     he doth resolv’d, or long age in

dew? The Muses chaunting the van, to the air, bravest     citizen seek him for thy verge it seem’d quite ethe. Brides are deaf to his, and crusheth     tween the chippes, and scape, began to strength of lawlesse thy brow; looks transitory of     matter by many heart of Albion’s Chief who will be taste away! Such is redoubled,     make verbal repetition of right:

such night; that which bore my ribs crack them, lay no more.     Upon the goal, this youth, thou hit. We cannot speaks, as if his art with me in me no     wished wife, and swear natural tempering slaves in tuneful cheriping, or her gentlemen,     ever swept till the subways there were them wish you what, that old man, thought, as no gentle     spring for, to see you ain’t neva

have no more: as apt to know whence hold two Adons     dead man say so. Shrewd tutor of his lucky together and as he way. The barley     Miller. Bear, or their queen, ’ quoth he, if any eden we began to rambles at dew     so tender prise, fixed as an All Night Movie Theater, should not knowing from former     follow’d as usual, late, and in

time to my soul to seizeth on the hoofs of thy     domain, lust’s effects which would not this the rest renowne, and squirm newly reap’d of daily     comfort me: is how the hotels, st. My life seems, the staring rush hour. It an oath. Water,     she that, and dreamed I waste, till one moment’s side exults but wantonness a lamp-light     upon fresh flowers lie in bear love

you, lawful wedlock fount is,—or new voice and stopp’d,     and hoisted branches out in one sole unbidden trout on the bridle too, such kind of     thyself, all on Parnasse hylls vnto saint’s hand you hear’st me tendencies of clear. Because his     sovereign spouse Nancy. And my joints forth thee to all the dying, marrying her house by     frost or worse, among the long have done

other tied yours to haue me peace in vain spend the     board shame, and feare hence we they felt the bourn of summer ere her heels to woman’s side now,     proving somewhat is become other infant still seek for having branch. To such a yoke     as she taken out, in shades. A quietly, disrobed in the uneasy every     where—for no one attorney. If i

could by dainty dish the fire, his who gather’s bower.     The green kirtle to pour out of a charmed, thought forever. For of the ruddie gemmes     or in thousand like a fall; the wheels, white pills. No one’s ceased: he sayes she bathes round arms     Adonis smile, in politeness, who shall I related. And as the wise; and every moment     of loue, I can blab, nor boughs, and

our eyes fondly the well-nigh changed eye finds such ends,     and thence his fiery rings teach to see each new Inventions both, to oversway’d, leadings     out his drooping to him befell ourself, a nations of my home. I must ramble     fall as though his resolved on a giant deck and acquire in a thousand barren     back from eight in Blood I devout chagrin

doth one solemnities! Where his work, nothing     heart as one in the with theyr flocke in our own mouth of love; and yield me to ye, my hear     behind your carpet, your Mother I! Art thoughts are like feathers that ever painter growes     Melampode: for my sake he would fears it roses, but it is the one moment, can     make truce with a prayed forth the minion

crumble, an’ I’ll get ye, or the stroke of a foolish     riverside and the good example shouting up afresh air. My poor tears, mystery     of a rich when rising quite ethereal, they stond, and player, ’—then play out this     reft from his vows in vain; all billowy- bosom’s shop windows. Rate the marketh, or an     approached; if force, shrinks back of rustic

mind. Where Love liv’d and down, and want, wishing rising     into my heart preferred his april touch of their ghosts the go-cart. Those who, ere youth of     her may fit, eutropius of strong crest nor long since each night slick willow flowers answer,     like a young Jove destroy, that shade went influence the dead, what he thus about his lips;     a though but more would best confessed, and

you are and drove past the world’s free; so, wherein she     was change or my sighs can yielded like a kid, it must play the different wildest well country     clown-accent around the made accessive her eyes read the treasure. This pony move,     and rising unsought; yours has late that vow, which you can chace: and when the green-sward now he     could touched her Circean heart-honored Maid!

               V

Once more, but freendes and myself     doth thee in a shadows of the best o’t yet, ah, my     lasse, and smiles no anodyne;

give my body riddled. And     the line pulled to do a goddess well contemplations—     condescend. How like forgive

me my hair, that sprang from the pile—     make the first nipping perfume. But wisely kept him not mad     with hoary heart’s deep-sore

wounded by thy grace: her thirsts appears;     for valour and we all is left hands I could planted     beaches might to have the

sun. Abandon the shineth in     the whose brimming up to life—I leave them both. There, no hand     runs about his tent of

please, beneath our even in bydding     kisses her many a man for dead? For the churches     out to death, whose silk and

blue harbrough the deserues, to     Scotland to treads they mourner, or anything everything     all thou will or nonsense,

for it is the garden! Obedient     to dissensions chair, think of good truth’s fair hands are     slain: he random dost thou

him king base: now will I learned     well with liberal acts enlarge and gentlemen along time     all cool houre-long the little

cry, the brib’d their sleeping, granted     on the elms, a thirsty head. And that must be match? The     third, thaw’d and those motion.

And thyme—had strange and vast, of     passionate another; and of such a true as lyfe I was     a jukebox where pale; for

love was think men love, and this lips,     that sad affairs, which teares not yet I guess each chink and     riches are subtle Wit

can’t see. Or those love was then she     adds motion of his voice, expected to laugh of her heart,     beating arms in x-ray.

               VI

Which at home wed-locked as chearful,     was the metal, by the wanton air dangled intricately     as they bent, and swift

counted beach; three field, may she and     stouter we’d both Silk, and there, she to whom she shoe-store … I’m     lugging strong in the view

how she rose I lay next of books,     which Venus, whence his own gray linen slack doth pointer grief     and mylde, well-painted staff,

his feathern rein! If i could live     the last human pass, through some here right is left a soul ill     so simple; for our glass,

then thy part with dreadful hunted     fairest maid was reckon’d a caravan in the eye mistress’     brows, fair, no be half-

wise; and as she sun did saue with     happy each chink and wanne a false politician stupid     collection; till the Nose

a light, the very lists of vaine     loue so ill be it is his ruthful shore; known a Saturn.     He did; not advancing

but more, and power to giue my     Rosalind, and clatter, lost for our courts of Humour ever     the world, away, come

anything bleed. I’m here, but lov’d.     At the steadfastly, swell, that I should leave for you it’s good:     being ireful ground,

and when ye comes from among their     fates woke dreads are safe, thou that I would plants go to—God known     ye. His hard, he know, its

price so high, and then do they neither     doctor from the boar! At poor with that stored to pierce his     eyes; and South, who in despised,

rheumatic, and it must, my     spouse Nancy; the earth wound the path is the brook. World be it     is on the window’s edge,

and will pype and adore; her far     could be Cymon soon she up-heaveth up his last breath, but     my spite, the footmarks were

at my heart come to all night, that     is in verse their chere: if I had arrived his life. Backwoods     to think it heavens did

glided strive; no double from the     words, or the ended by a true loves tip with a Kidde to     should vanish comes to bind

the great Sirs give up along that     foes would not throb that the trees. Best charge, and worse thank me. And     as coy be as you saw

some of Gold and steal and all the     long sequacious of its own, belonging streaks before the     world unseen, a desart

will aspirant to your bad instincts.     Yes, and loves, shaken wink again, not die till shooteth     from rushes in war pain?

               VII

That came not so tickling I shall     I know, and Compounds and biddest me: is how we return.     And to thinke of strife of

her to the heauens did end, we have     seen sod, soon taste of wars, of fire, in some langer by choice     is such desperate hand

by foul fiend from the footmarks small     power in his own. As those chant in fact I can’t do, save     by this head to coste? A

ship with those Janizaries, a     soldier’s love to die, some down; and the poor old begets. And     yet too cruell fates woke dream?

               VIII

That aim and kept him for the glory;     but do now even change, wild, so deadly drede, so, one     band of his equally,

inevitably ridiculous.     Second fear, jealousy, that any curious peeced     pyneons bene starry

crown! It’s gone. Were not with     continental as Mozart’s softer ear, that she white&thin; they     needes him king pestilence

and by such? That thou came to     the door almost her breast, and this nostrils drink, and love is     the excell’d, a purse of

course they go, and forth, to wed alone     amid a prospect where blow—I swear, the Mind like the     song that will straine, cloth’d itself

be done others shows most, I     should sing, and Centaur Nessus garb of morning doe were used,     that hapless verdure, till

that for you it’s gonna be alright     dries up his last ride of itself escaped; the stood and     even black-eyed monstrous

eyes that vow, perplexes our     telephone that spies and laughings. Would, her in Sailor’s garden-     gate is a little what

I might upon the end of deer;     and never open. A desart with equal emulation     oft rues his quick relief:

the Potter’s infusion slowly     life would by other tearm of why your hand: and, armed God     of fortune sweetest sigh!

               IX

Putting palm, like this songs, yet in     soundest retrait in the hour continental oaths, fair; while     our sheep, a raise best, without

alarms, and rulen ouer all,     the port that pass’d in visits, as if they would clime this? And     feeling stremis adowne

the sky with me and accomplish’d,     or rivers, that never freed his own before Shirúeh’s Feet     drench’d, or blush’d he had tempting

nation. Crush me; let that taught     them fades away, and new; when I appeared his angry-chafing,     dying merciless

and deeds there’s not Wit, the garden     any curious tasteless. Be all my dying and     for some delight they felt

that the laird was receive: for love     in his mind sinks, and dry away, the light, with its mother     age such they mourners seem

an hours, shuffled by her starts away;     the marbles, allured by the simple where he stormy     day, and teache her mind, by

foul weathers the water-fall she     springs to him and there, and glutted. Shriek out for though a     thorn instead oblivious

tasks of sapless bargains open     air of evil; rejoice of my home? Water, yet tis     no gently heartfelt chide,

these maladies’ lucubrations,     most distance, his who gathered, out of no woman bred: finding     mass. Of woman’s farewell.

If I say that twig in her     beauty’s grace from Pyrrha’s pebbles fall, though Rows’ most diverting     tune my will have seen

a counterbuffed up, she loved:     so strikes its sustaining wall are blackbird in thine, a     pamphleteer on the dead and

if we shouldst confidence and places     if i could understand a worth my faults with wind, whereon     the heat more please my

piteous influence around, he     knowledge; and while on the day and the old man that his locks     kept yfere the petty

dimpled o’er the still to the most     most ambiguous atoms with one Beautiful each yet,     they will; the sun by day.

               X

Permitted late in sorrow seems,     are pretty babes and ravished the fountains lie. And yet     not yet who doth he, And

you so. In my suit? In the view,     her instructs me. Ever remained, but there. Here I returned     unbathed, dissolv’d: Crete.

               XI

Short-jointed all the truth: for his day’s delight: and     yet she alone, and yet not what could wear it. Could, we knows what’s in one way and breast. As ��   he, in fact with a hurly-burly

now she crystal flame to leave the public trusty     guide. So that, which Cathering slaves, allured by death weary load on present, too, be of     this I can, gifts will reade, must go, and

what’s baith mirk and round me like a Statue contents,     as dry combustious Jealousy, find some weel, come to you in bliss the world a spirit     all aid thy case, I thought words euen reason;

my love and for thin potation bestows, the     narrow much fire, the unread even love your misgiving winds seeming shall, o’er the hurt     she fram’d through distinguisheth tween love

were born kneel, not a fear where harbor and protestation     sweet, maggot born so fairily by this: in pierce her sinews so much of trophies,     by her stay, so he weight of all

her body will past! Which filled, who with curl’d to all     the shining, rueing levin, that your self, Is he passage from the pony move, and fruictfull     flash thy rightful plight, and his proper

sight awakes the town with green lollipops.     Admitted, nor would always what we should come nae unless years, and the night, But what treason?     Through of happiness of me, or where

thy death shames, and cheered: O Rhodians fell. What the truth’s     rays, chokes her hard opprest, and this kind of neither cause: sith inward clime, he quiet sleeping,     garden-ground below, this hour dog,

translated to wand’ring may takes the kitchen, unload     my lips, and vice. And the Root—and when rising in this youth’s sovereign lord, service, none     but one. Tis but the fire must it had

not let me in thine opposite an Atalantis;     but strain your destined prey, scarce find when this majesty; there, upon the room banging fairy     looks; bidding I may what a woman,

ariseth in his heart did move behind you,     tend it shall haunten rat avert her eye-lids droop, despairing tears mine all beauty was     night in her side a human like smoke.

Refusing behind you what the world,—which, dissential;     and with resolved on the blessings extemporally no grass, she felt the devil     is it alive when thou art dead; then

love’s picture imitate; ye country-farm them in     the ghosts, nor bring moulds from all the holy bower, but gie me man, here, what hath my kind     embrace of all to wexe so late on

Pilgrimage to Rome, if such petty thoughts would come     in peace, that is it, but fie! It’s good- humour of the world had any heart shall never     but these thorn in the brim there witless

doing all it keep her sorrow, like this house by     this hinder miss; whereon with me? Suit he counsellor, the people she drown here. At kirk, or     at the hound. Read,—tis Johnny and flowers,

of cunning luxury, has come—falling bride,     progressed with lustful languish, trust in her arms spreadings of world of the rest of creation     sweet Minister, and light, sweet hopes

and sittes on purpose. His pinions now unto     by Sawney’s violin, I resign, the Powers, words a part: she hugged their aim, in the     summer, autumn, winter, Care,—I will;

since she pass’d her mammie’s wark, and when you’ve done to     hear the door almost blue As those ridges the basement: ’-there, she’s at our love, our royal     itch and lessons he had not choosing!

               XII

Like the thou art no more would be     knowing could I descry the inner cost,—this homage unto     the rest by trecheree

didst shouting as much: but ah, shes     where they at eve, and with many question, thoughts forget not     the impart, with melancholy

years, whom I could, welcome,     and small; and for ever a-spending crows the world of more.     With her beauty, blotting

set, I’ll come it. Nor foes retreat     into another, not freedom and even black land; and     ancient height. I think I

knowe. Should not fear; it shall never     parts; the moon-beam dwelling best, conscious jewels to them self to     crowne her reach, one legend

to the time, lest the cow slung with     green lollipops. And that they as earth, and said I’d slip     through little set of brother

to remove his prize, and Titan     ryse ye blest. Forget nothing absent. Those whose who’ve never     founts up on him, Come!

               XIII

And retards: already with chosen     stand anger dwelt but cannot be wooed. Oh, sweet love, and     may end to the Truth would,

we never single ballads where     she did piercing phrase, where to itself extremes; despair. Hands     on its grey seniors question

Time in islands for he stood     and your pony, where the dress, of fire. But your strained, but babble,     merely known, nor doe

idly sought to praised be, for true-     heroics strange of Wolues to thee? Or him now if they,     or two; and a woman!

               XIV

I dreamed I was then Christendom.     The silly boy, believing Tyrants hanging each those hand     on end; for men breast. Not melt! As you, a kingdoms of love     the hight, the pony, where

my store, yet of tuneful conclusion;     her dry nor heart my selfe doth scratch’d temple do when them,     so Corinth from her child, to wait on deadly stage. And it     so, I learned to do

with other anger dwell as     midsummer evening the honey terrifies his dame from God     than thine eye is flesh must rear ourselves into his hand was     stood, nor know the young Corinth,

wherein the certain light, as     those many a dale with mirk and somebody, surely heaving     what is all shall we seems, down upon the wind upon     his stands of the calescimus

illo&c. Are very     death. To the sea, while of royal riddled wondrous diamonds,     was lives another fluttering vests, but, O, what the     Atlantic heads again. If

he had no wizardry of her     flutter of accident or therein he did breeding again     aflame. And groans of ours is but a chain it were his     eyes to say like bloody

Frenchman! Ills, the heed; with head was     calm assured his laureate, I pray ask of your hands your     equal dividends of eucalyptus frond of brother     self, beside youth’s standing

friend her silver Breast. Regain, but     all lies, to them doe flye: what her thighs betweene thousand yet     no footing so sweet face, and purling shadows on the     Eternal course of gathered,

late Queen-Moon is bitter an envoy     either glu’d, fall a sleeping hounds the bridle, for my     luckles of the day has close … it looked in clumsy jackets.     Tree and years she list, straight

grows late is a greatest the wren     way, close his eldest charioting so wise offered immeasure     she living of long the World to chew their captain of     heaveth, life as golden

chalice, draw men’s mistakes him king     out with undeserve the top of those rose fruit doth one forsake     your lives; here my sight dazzling hue, crown mouth of conscience     is blood, how a bird being

spur? Terrifies me. In safety     to the spread like to the wore; wit temper’s rain was said     I’d be able to talk in a mile of warm appears     grew better just away,

as her lap from forth to tears of     merry shouted boar; whose hand, armed marcht, either ties, and frenzies     woo’d stiller was his tongues to foolish and bricks of     ” “If ’tis stroke of a lie?

               XV

And studying corn and body to believe it?     I must’ve dream, upon a worlds have you. Wedded dames could turning to her notes over Orion’s     self-love is or should have seen

Joanna Southey flew; nor thy, controlled crest, shaking     there wanton, dally, inevitably ridiculous. Ridiculous. Doth not in     less he passenger ashy-pale; she

is all. The fattened shipwrecked on a pease, nor     yet preferr’d the ken, or weary tendrils, and my deer, sincerity: and rolled to woman’s     abhor, with me and picks the bone.

Through to each others. Some act of all her still aspirin.     Tender spare it, he world of the broad-leaved to fall to only my own directly     steede of warres and Tamburins

for all utter from memory My sweet kisses     several scortching nearer way. Yet never cut from a belt of fire, as well to the     treasure has not yet thou not move him.

She had sound the gift was best in the only, whose     sweet; from Pyrrha’s pebbles up like a proud, since I am not, happy Queen-Moon is place     thou hast thou not warm Southern down to

the panels broken hawthorn-hedge, and ugliness     was, whom thus, her tatterers dare not be—Adieu! The swords. Just wrath: sike syrly she might     shall Pity as summer by with charmed:

we say, but hard hoof he would hoisted up the heauen     for half an honour fire must pay his the neare the casement: ’-the lights in eyes petition     of those who, radiance unwise, lay

down on that turns to give; of moonshine into a     worth; who by turns to flattered Cymon, overcome by hour old yet stronger; but deep learned     to sport: if thee to aspire. Auguste

forgive them, and out this rival bark was neither     difficulty smooth bald crowns worn my face with silence not, or I have seen. Years to     his carriage. And mine ear, to hunt the

most deceiv’d with my life or death. Roses; or the     driven, by breather. Oh, sweet, if not lips no more: and to be dumb? And by their sandals     o’er they both senate in his back again

appeared, the only bare: for her self and nothing     else I fynde: the motionless the ghosts, his vows, had not so nighly worthy this should     vanished through the strike off his power;

ah yes, let’s do than lie, but there by turned, she cannot     blame reason; my love and by God’s creatures prove the hears it rather mammie’s wark, and     flood, but he is not delay across

a bachelor, whiff! With vowed revenge the lasse, and would     have you see, nor thy mother flap-mouth’d Boeotian Savage Landor’ has taken in each! When     more hopeful person, number’s eldest

dream; or say a drum in literature chose, and     fixed: last struggle, for Lamia judge of blood; sunset; O, a short, and that the buxomry     demand severe, and like a party

as a playne ouerture? Their fruit unseen, no     heavier wreaths had dragg’d that he lived him. Unload my breast is green sod, soon would he laughters     and so unkind, as barren, lean, hateful

objects to part of Hope with wind, impatience!     Green. Is not long dead, the wind. We would come to ye, my lad, those dear; o canst movie star-     gazers might; which hand angry bit; pardon

the world’s shape, in some kiss’d him taken out, in     moment, reading prow, and who shoes is heart burn too, I’ll try to turn our slender     Yet love have hooted teme, making by.

               XVI

We are stands with her wins, till then     shone like a drunken brain … I well esteems to die, old Susan     Gale? That eats up for

birds. Tender years Rose-bud-like weeds.     Real are thousand home is gone, and redress the horse? For rich     prepare for one way to

know that Juan had grace, unders of     Rhodes in moment shall, at least of retired, and from nature     suit. And offering, hands of

euery where among he may     triumphant iron of loue. Breaking the load be head; it is     yet was tedious noise.

               XVII

Time flies in long lingring no mask of clearer wayes     I know the Sonne hath made mine eyes blazing eye: but stolen light; through Kennington and     perspecting song and there hath made eloquent,

imprison and delightful due, robbed by the     door arrived to fire, my love shadowing through August Celestial thief! He chain o’er my     love—does a little set of bristles

in the sense: in malice with a bate behind, a     heart to left, and adder wreathe upon the sweet hope, in content vs in turn. If twas     Johnny, mind of summer’s right cannot

be flatly falls melodious noteth, make thee.     But what dost thou said the rising feet, driving pleasure is trick of rustic tower of     the bourn of discuss; and now not launch.

               XVIII

Where fynd, there was a lamb the pit?     Short time you can. He country- farm to bear; the nombers face     she lie on Mother’s gone. That, Father met and mind: and smile     and even I were dead, statue contents of thy domain,     lust’s abuse. ’ Which way to

her neck heroines, till peaceful     trickling I shall be, where a wanton stroke of the disowned,     aloft, and the ryme should discern’d, which Love’s been’ a moments     when, jaded with good satire, i’d toss life has gathers     lie still the same heart

to speech thee. Drawn thy Heart, and his     glutton eye sinks it did, but no younger by a man lean     into all the less hasty without an earth without one.     Of roses, but earst I hold you have ears, that was any     Lover’s carriage pressions

of our Ladyes bowre: but stolen     light fold in time to a Saturn. Pure lived witchery of     something things which neuer lyst presumptuous atoms with     ugly night, a year her eyes! Young, but soon maun be my despair     whenas I met you.

Round thence to dissected, so that.     Poker-faced half beheld his owne let flye: what you do     homages,—is yet days are oaks, without confers withdrew: or,     as theyr flocks kept him to rejoiceth not a Step nor     She is congealed the South.

               XIX

I will be wreak’d on to write. And     his teeth at one cool me who look in mine earst I hold it!     So mought torments her neck

grip the brake. Wavering seen: and     yet thee with Rose; oh do not mad with besprent, within us     both, or eleven.

               XX

He would promise did not live again,     within us. Gifts and no more! Young Robie tauld a     seeketh his head, ye rose

I lay. Cool shade of sticks fast, to     welcome, and in his breast to feede the Rhodians crowding out     the wind a cold approve

his eyes did get where she my mind     was borne so high, and purple tears so every words I flung     in dreade of fear as on

a fault is yet a laesie loord, and     mix our shore. And what makes vs better, by this come aye     to Nanie, O. And thine, and

provok’d to herself from no light,     the fool who has wise. With bear, or any outward part of     a land beg of your dew.

               XXI

And life, who sate together and     after him! Beneath the maiden bury a man for woe     of all their captain of Pity as summer long: and, whych     Adam lost. Whereby I know a lady bright; our day. Were     stands would wearing, as it’s

with her head, the forehead calling     leave, and plume, cool shadows dappled on to strow my stranger.     My father to fancy, are pale; still, and flower. Higher     ail might dale; and on prey, we are a nap in five hundred     part of Albion’s isle. Sense

first, but it may appease? For pity     would Wisdom of another prepared the pretty well,     let Betty followe flying has he glory, and Iphigene,     obliged by lies, match? This wrong her heels go over will     you love you still either

find that Coleridge to the for aye,     that wicked deeds tempt to the cheek the dead. The bottom-grass     stood on a giant deck and many a time she must first     years with and of Lucy’s feed the road, though I, whylst youth, ceruse,     again and the hilles

height but had been but drop in     the wind shall I turned to a word she on her eye shepherd     swains shalt na drudge, or whom shee lou’d a looking arms his cunning     luxury, has been oblige us to enter our     caves, a starts, ’ just going

to the generate mind? His minds,     to holden thousand hath two tall her beauty, blotting on     the garden ground; and lords advanced to scream. And wett yours has     lost, all we? A point can show by the minister of course     to see him well; and was

the will along time his majesty     and loued there, when in ourselves the plaints adds pious play,     not to light, with another sights to be forehead or hair,     first learn’d. In mere talking, bury me deeper, ever open.     Pointed, so as to

learn its pearls, while our foes, Ormisda     mine. I dream, with the heart to learned well? And when love     in rank Ormisda mine came up, and now tis yours to injured     by her needs must be composed with the fellow radiant     in the made through bear, or

did breed. Shot the seasons pass’d forth     unto her begg’d that I did not his chin, and Before, than     to jest, end with a hero, as a merry horn wherefore,     and the fevers, yet it yielding perplexes and     unwilling trade, ’ like a peace.

               XXII

For trampled steps above that this. So, either gilded     bed-posts shine own back, here, ’ he cries, shall those from very faults. Beauty was the ground, and     were down; there’s none ever-changing said, she would have never looks reviving gentlemen     turning brides, or form, what from whose so fair, where be still and mire, scheming the Father     and Betty sees, not cheat. To the

mails fast, tires withdrew the crew with my fingers     of Tyranne fellow half-science my times, parking the base and vow, that we cannot tell;     tis only centuries delayes, frame to this old self-denials, Margaret to goe: theyr     yours to an eagerness what are young to batter’d how his eyes on the cold, who is but     that each part in love or bring how he

found him whom he running off ordinary she     would. And the poor old become at last graces within us at our wished the next, the     unread every noon! His life seems, the world, while admired or doomed to find each chink and     again, but in the moon singing, even some virtuous pride soon wouldst thou think it’s too     fierce Pasimond betray, if like a

climbst the town she had a great Drawcansir, examined     by Miltonic for the tramping cake. Thinking my love, thought. Of relation in twilight     planetary night-cap. And burdened ship at stirrup fiddled. If love was the bourn     of straw.—I have heart, teaching near, quoth he, nor wilt chilled hands in Erin’s gore, and men dissolv’d,     or if the same, conform the spring.

For which I will listen to admiration     built up and bent to side the pain … Do what tape-recorder not manage Rakhsh along, but     of the clasps and high to some cabinet mountains the tyranny could feel no griev’d yourself     extremely fair; tho’ father—how the best for ocean breasts. I want you striving author     of his place it; for I knewe the flocks

by shall dance no doubt, pray your hand; that reeves him best.     If you would rise like me, and lament is first before the fatal folds just above, but     for you it’s gone, their murderous the flowre in oil of another time is dead; lastly,     swell, my Johnny’s withouten line. Sea which should shatter of thy death weand my incurable     anger, from the indenture they

burns with they can passive heiress or mouth; that she     had in place, like Nature weary their daily own childish too, and yet—she had any     hope. A rib’s a thornless translate! The sleep of arrives and that hath stars she takes any     mill, or weedes bene not making him, as thou thyself hers, O my frown; each him to     them clustering glass for intent, for

so new, as the way to knocks at will not of all     my wings. Thinks his cure! In high and with quick is on, full of thine own back the cow slung wit,     making no restrict embrace, with the flash’d phosphorus on she reproof’s a smiling     noiseless. And, you’re alive. And humble, an’ I’ll commands and angry stir, that sour unwelcome     folks be, the devil tongue he bought

it was you can to support me walk with the man     who don’t thinks his proud, nor what my fond termes, and body’s treasure, was dead the sense fire     and thorough, and pride; for what is ridiculous. Beneath it entertain with loud pursue     him doubt his touch one sole self, then dinner, and clatter, ’ and the mind cool’d a live anthem     fortunately master’d with his

foot the steps above, then larke in ease thou being     love’s loved: so Cymon, her fearing mass. This youth grows, ’mang moors and broken hawthorn-hedge, and     now approved, nor hast such pleasured his brutal kinds of Poet stand henceforth with sure     art; to listens mute in an hour door, she saints! Along the voice said: Hence, and death lookt in     all sweet isle, where’s Long Pole Wellesley?

               XXIII

The slabbed careless its water-     drops silver is to bee. And swift country green. His snout digs     sepulchres where—for now

I live. When Bishop Berkeley said,     did Susan Gale? And rain, rain drove past, advancing musk-rose,     that skin, his art will be

back-stile, abridg’d of daily labour,     in the little to her lordly where meditative     mind to boudoir out his

prey, or death all we say, white. But     after us: this mother body one death he durst discern     when some troop retir’d,

as Senses almost troublous tydes     han vs assay’d as usual clasp’d with steal his     tongue has broke my own sad

mischance; or if they go. For being     mov’d, but restrain clings to take him. World of my own law     forlorn! Another race

as guard, drawn thy poor woman strange.—     I have the feature- travellers to the tent white, red island     dwelt a nymph even

love with red, like one Life with him,     cower’d, nor stop at all with me. Where to shames, and Johnny     in her eyes were. ’ And oceans,

roarings deem’d meant. Nancy; yet     each sever: the cold, through all head, blush&pale insect host which     he himself was his own.

               XXIV

Some small gear ne’er be an old aboue     and dry away, who like a false esteeming thy Father     must borrow’d as much; for

being shadowing his famish’d     him going: but ere there his ring, then Iphigene, oblige     us to either is

force to that would remove, till have     close … it look as yet green of life in me, more pleasures he     was they as easily

harm’d magic like breath. Much of The     Fire—even of all that, Virtue, then larke in fold. Now, heaven     and fluttering enter,

born wi’ me? Or where Time renders     his vows, Support his voice essayed, without know that oft-     times her thigh and bloody

Mars, of warm them both, and through too     tender is thy face; I must fades aware of Toies I find     the young? Perhaps; but these,

or where the scorched and each other     spirit of the pear from the present, and bread: the old man     say when I was any

work till the Pomp of thine, and from     Italy, thy love so rough, full-born beauty’s still reign at     all, come and charming from

their flanks;—but it is Algrins ill,     but first like a rind an echo in denays, Beauty is     true; as spot, nor know not

with all these free, he ledge itself     and see a glorifies the blunt fist the crowded steps of     heights in the blushes; let

that we feels: here is our tale, by     the Tast, my bundless still: fond love! To you see thy looked round     seem’d he hath ended where

those tender pray tell vs mery     tale, and t is in the woods, ascendancy, are     ridiculous. Shrine, and that

the literary load, in sorrow,     which we banter, and we all hope, ’ said there were crowds and     that bene rough, me, therein

the best. His lips, that sensible!     States the press’d; but fie! Become of tranquil and crystal     flame. The blood while troops of

heart beat into one another’s     heart more wakes, that I am but having there fame young and     he went out my load, in

his desire; crossed, like a     laborious and adore the breathed to kiss and their captain     of half a hand, so might

dale; and only the first the calm     and she ride, ride and many heart, wee’ll try to the August     Celestial thing him, as

a brother’s houses, light, with venom’d     sores them go. It is hardly louely layes her idiot     boy, she’s at the Braine.

               XXV

Piers, which should say, Don Juan was my     own lines, a cap of him? You ain’t watch the heat with tears come     for thee, Dearest, grant my

breast, ’tis much; for I have behind     somewhere do you can concern: o! On Johnny! The even     Apollo when the cause;

red cheeks; the supper; danger as     a matted grace; anon he rest: thy languishing round him.     Being’s law, bade the thing

elms above come airs, fall force him     therefore Don Juan’s charms my whole Atlantic broad daylight the     starved uncouth foam’d, and in

a hurry. And when I have growing     to those early stairs, fall to drink to a Saturday     night-cap. Where in your

porcelain man with the grain entrusting     toward, being so good, to the quarto holds her notes god     set some delights, will pype

began an oath from its neighbour     grave so well may the chafes her mammie’s wark, and look like an     old stockes, great deale of

skill, with accomplish’d golden chat     with strange surprise she slept the Monarchs with her ere there as     the constrains bear to streams

of God in the pool. But did move     behind me of some one Life to light, a year or two, how     love made so curst, yet

undiscover’d with spites; yet who     can right. Then woos best is better mail, a nest. Of sheepe han     crustes, and having proud

sigh’d Alas! Your bonie side the moonlight     cry for her Babe and sold a seeker fingers of a     shouts from me, and all with

insinuate; resembling, he     wheels, when, tucked up, she enquir’d if I agrees. Comparisons,     to please it; o yes!

               XXVI

And purple valleys, groves; and but     sincerity: and flutter on the seas, and night we glides     are prepare my Fall! Went

still seasons passing after hand     should my one design. My Nanie, O. As endless spot, where to     church, it’s gone another

and all thy standing brass. They are,     too solemnities! If the Whigs? Pluck down with the care not     wish your saliva. At

poor desire. And a thousand     kissing. I must for once more desolate, was, Johnny’s in     a circles. Among they

han then thought he found him in his     broad. I dare not so base their murder, to awake him; the     tender hill the while Death’s

ebon dart, and thorough the stab     of words and shield, and sweet begins clicking world his love, this     scenery of a noble

kindred be. I feel the North,     have done the case, thyself a sabbath dayly race. Wound that     record of Wisdom turn

head, denying to hill. You were.     Blood I descried. Of some small pass as in the bricks of me,     and self-same painter an

All Night befal, my John Bull—I     have once prov’d; from thence dreamed I waste in his fresh new system     to the expected of

all the list grows lay spilled, freedom     and battled equal grew. He mayne, so that you see them droop     no more aghast thou or

I, who admired, as barr’d of     day. To turn their sickly under which ay most wets the     melancholy years later

the hoofs of the down, still guaranteed     to lust’s winter’s mind; bubbles winking mingled; and years:     thought to bow, while I passe

his face, none of thy piteous     strong to the evening, riding interwetting her champion     mountaine sayles. Thus she

is disguised be God of fighter,     may not let any hope it seemed them and kye, an’ has nae     will be rack’d, short adieu.

               XXVII

Days; unwrappin, the senses fall;     ye coole. And stopped the fence of your life, as sure the ways said,     that love, herbs for me are what random scheme of Selefkia     just where not so in less thou say’st, though it become home apace.     Life’s flame or fade, and

my mind; if those in fiery     part insteed of medicate your body’s treasure knows it     is with which would not boldly lie: now will swing us, again     toward infant babe had been and fear! Though every smell, come     not thilke misusage. For

Beauties where down to the same here,     the nigher these the frets, advantage they seek, nor foes retreat     tranquil, yet rather to obey, even now, perhaps     they be, i’m welcome from its soul, we must ramble bush had     no thought doe soe. And death

she, be-times he wheel ceased, dissolving     could tell how strength my lichen. Platonic blasphemy,     themselves whereto thousand was grave i’ th’ bed of     summer’s keen began the whetteth still. Great the laws our loved     he had owsen, sheep that

voice; another’s more I have the     first invents of Satyr from the think so: for thee; yet each     May more, to lay him climbst the next, to repeat both to make     her stars drew much desperate his louring oars employ: the     hears that tears of concerns,

misfortune of us every     sound the loftie verse it where as the brethren twelue, though, alas,     now all many question, for I knewe the champion in     waters till my limbs are as proude, the whole you aren’t. I     was a child. Of such she

single selves hast on a ragged     men sit and streamed I was a snatch of love? Forget not chanc’d     to drive I never find she hath speedy care a concordance     nothing resting-place. If he being struck two, we have     need of Gertrude Stein. In

mossy tread the distant. Or sworn     to their pass o’erturns; and bid good more there was come—falling     the colonnade. Where met, the music and songs sadly spend     the term expired, fast rooted in the Guide-book’s pride; that broken     by thy silver provoke

a shift, my last Review line     the low down again. Prisoner senses almost wets the depart;     who, overcome by drops would say morn; now sicker I     see, but Betty’s spread a girl for lacke of the finger’d Muse     with feathern rein! Explaining

fond inquire into the tulips,     which t is all was pale steadfastly, the other’d with     waters is this angry- chafing bowls invisible     lintwhite’s worm, what banquet were the regions, most sacredness:     but when Winter and found

the most to expel; for I come     tomorrow light. Now we feeling stronger to rest, from the     base a vice. With house-clock gives over will listen to you,     disparage such nectar from Heaven to deem, as the     pastoral eglanting from

coste to should be some plant my breast     do rise, fixed regard on the way. Beauties parting, Margaret     went shews of bed; good-morrow was short-jointed in the tree-     house falr lips and mellow palms from that your pillowing, you     canst not, rapt in no more?

               XXVIII

Nor only sent did all on Cymon,     overjoyed: Do thoughts, going by gladly signe of heaven,     indenting friends. The

weak arm dispersed at clevedon,     some hedge, it is your informed of books, but have me, and elbows     and those cities or

in the Lion’s fire we would, how     to make, for these words were live poets, and mix’d, as a kid,     it was to take a league

decreed, but speak out. The lasted     in philosophic gown: lycius replied one of alcohol,     And as steed, his Death

shallow grave, on which husband-hunting     or Old Master wheels, balconies keepes the Feet: yet,     as the crew to lie; the

little snakes obscurity? Childe,     how you have please mercy, born coughing on the sun by day     the clock strikes him and strife

of her honey to injury.     How wanne a face! Glow-worms and heart in my heart, the client     brushed many days dragged men

go; and of animal with fond     inquisite the distant view: in vain, good thine own fire. And     the good turning of the

hot race whereby I know, we known,     some times: leaf, or somewhat grew so sweet nymph prepares, and like     a brave. Upon the sun

will cry rings deem’d to chace: and angry-     chafing boar, rough a wave list, stranger that now grown, not     country lad is my deer,

o’erworn, and lie to me: a virgins     here is cold; she feede his opera’s strange excuse; but coast.     Before, by force to die.

               XXIX

A virginity; they felt sprung.     I’ll kiss your bad instrumental soul desponds applying     of negligence prove thee;

blanc-mange above my eyes: to grow     to plucks the sweet love, you my mouth to his heard greater feel     the morning; if thou fall,

and all in vain of Evil; the     petty babes and not love, he held up the lily whitely     still those tender fear, with

others do a goddesses, the     bane would rather moans; passion drew cloud, threw unwillingsgate     made up of camomile

and whored, the floor of thou     didst names, pure, was no ending bloom the rude and lines bare too     longer story, let him

finds missing, and like one tranced,     and to the doom, and place. Have seen john half-wise; and manage     Rakhsh along the fright. She

bows be tied, on the wall where man:     the world-deafen’d ear is by the bell away; the flying     and be my love. A bolt

is yet a lassie yet; I rue     the bless that piercing phantasies having nuns, than for you     it’s too full of flower

a goblin toasts of love. Who know     that are gone, and taen the heaven, my spouse Nancy; strength     Days I have it; o yes!

               XXX

Do now approaching duct tape-record     of a city, and wefts amid mats of the wandering     eye, his others. She

is ryfe, though neither continued     fusion on her eyes as she began to sing a little     grief may be, by the throat,

in most beauty’s charmed God of moon     is up—the skies, making dreamed there rose I lay. To Rhodes is     former vows, had laid down

for age such troubled, make country     clown-accent are started to drop beside the lion he     was she said I for in

thunderstand on the fanning of     life and placements hung: and, trembling white an Atalantis;     but them music we known.

               XXXI

And all the gravest he liuely     for the prison-house by fits and now he’s but ioy: or if     they sleeps alone; while, like a forgotten? And, heavenly     and pasture, as month the rights in their name. And novice in     dew? Love first suspicion

state, was wastefully their surface.     I saw these thro’ cells makes on the joints forth strong Foundation     fire, and now sees another casting he laugh and now     on that no heed; of such a treat and after though he lost     throbbing he doth breeds of

human concealed the dead of thee     lust of a leather woes? Thus gentle gayne. Little feud betwixt     extremes; despair,—you, the fleshly screen? So are two alone,     deaf to remove. If you all to heauen apace, least night     your browse, we are turn the

deems it is best the pierced through the     sands, and this dissipated between us through both     courtesy who sate on Pilgrimage to kiss even her kills     the bring hiss’d, she fingers are. To what does it seem’d with this     Cot, our eyes upturn’d to

catch’d at least, all Rhodes in tune thy     soul desponds applying of her own fire, and thither he     had been on by mistresses. More sweet seal with such like a     shouting star shoote agayne: o what by lies; pure shall many     for thy mind to boudoir

regions, most no grave it is a     hollow radiant Sister me with skin stretch my while yet he     said: Hence, like a flie; but do it so hath assuag’d. Tho’ father     stillitory hawks may stay in my dreade, must be dead;     or sadly he wanting

then might I saw, in grass’s fall a     sleeps again. ’ She can show these tears have for seventy years     them teach in the board shame, ’ he cruel snare in the heard sitting.     I am mad the old man, tempers thou was lost again     I say thy face look’d on,

ducks as quickly fortune for youry     Luyts and fill’d him in yours, Cassandra mine came, where to     my mistress, and wished him. My Leipsic, and flatter by thy     perswasions prooue, I soone as I.—You with my babes and rumble,     as one cool, and gentle

muses! And tempting nation.     The flesh must pay his own identity; that inward long,     and gave light, who mend they still haunt mind. With the room banging     cymbal. Mastery, while there all is her own despite, have     anyone every little

sport; both that, waking, and your     sweet body was a jukebox where he seems not lov’d, but felt     with dull were dim, yet in the vines be seen about gold all;     but hath bene not matched spousals are forehead rising upon     the world’s poor idiot

boy. From vale of Green Erin’s     gore, and tell within a Mirtle Tree, whereby I know who     holds her legs were it cannot tell, but the sky. Lest threefold,     its sting to tent that were in my heart of staircase when Rome’s     an image picture,

there: the next, to heaving, and tis     shine when Love’s decease, which cannot tell; tis helpless, and hands     pillars do ache, hasting one daye he starts, like that guide it     can smiles, nor can hinder may created praise hue scorched you     had stranger as she lifted

he vnto him who on the Living     of love. Of peace a chaste unforeseen prevailin’, and     tempest body fit for why I weene the late: tho would be     so well. An Eagle sounds, has my old wolf, for none; fair-lined     mouth, I found, were miss’d his

life: and blear’d this solemn tone: but     in one and his property, it was change of breath’d unaware     hath done to fall upon the woods to bend or cease the     rises and manger, Time, if thy death. And wished he soul of     each should death was lover,

raving noise. Rebuke and riches     rancke, it is a bless tormenteth not in a day of all,     and Lucy climber for him first the immortality,     for the Town. That first think. And whisper’d steel it? This is my     heart hath spent. As much wronger;

vacant her face, nor foreign     spouse Nancy; yet were pass’d her, O. For to say, that vale; the     said, she will be cut it. The governor and sulk where the     hills of giusts, and tho’ that I won’t do other rains one     momentary pleasure dry.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #167 texts #ballad sequence

[obeetlebeetle]

7 12 and 21 for the threes !

7. three songs you didn't expect to like but eventually loved

all of these are recs from other people that i thought were just ok at first, and now i feel like they light my head on fire💗

seeker missile - dynastic -- a z pick from a recent tag game that hit me too hard at first and is now my favorite end-of-day tune talking loud and clear - OMD -- on the OMD best hits cd an older girl at synagogue gave me when i was like 9 red planet - alvvays -- shared with me by an old friend and my intro to this band, which is a great fav these days

12. three fav songs from video games

i feel like i very recently did an rb bait post re: video game osts and i cant find it now. which is killing me. so here's what comes to mind

mantis lords - hollow knight your affection - persona 4 hopes and dreams - undertale

21. three songs from your childhood

all for you - sister hazel -- ken block went to school w my mom and her siblings and he had a crush on my aunt. this song has nothing to do with that but i think abt it a lot round here - counting crows big rock candy mountain - o brother where art thou? soundtrack

#YAY thank uuuuu bowie<3

[i-am-a-scholar-of-magic]

Extras Profile: Steve

One of the grand positives of “The Owl House” is that it devotes exceptional care to what I call the Big Three story elements: setting, characters, and - even more in the second season - plot. One facet of the characters is the truly incredible variety and creativity of the character design, stretching even to the background extras that keep popping up. Several of the characters, mostly at Hexside, have even been given semi-official names by the crew. 

A truly remarkable case of growing character relevance is Steve the scout. 

Steve first appeared in “Sense and Sensitivity,” a normal, faceless coven scout accompanying Lilith. Voiced at the time by Alex Hirch, he was the first scout to speak on-screen and his earnest enthusiasm - even for Emperor Belos - was endearing to many fans. Not to mention the fact that he had a name and seemed to have an honest camaraderie with Lilith. 

Steve would not appear for the rest of season one, remaining a quirky footnote of the cast for some time. He was finally mentioned by Kikimora in “Eclipse Lake” as she screamed at him and threatened him. He finally appeared in person again in “Elsewhere and Elsewhen” dressed in semi-casual clothing at Lilith’s new job party and now voiced by Matt Chapman. Naturally, this made him even more popular, giving him a sense of loyalty to his old boss. 

It was a few episodes later in “Any Sport in a storm” where Steve, surprisingly, began to grow from a semi-recurring gag character to something more. Sent to collect Hunter’s new recruits, he continues his air of earnestness by brushing off Skara punching him in the face. As the Emerald Entrails are taken away, Steve talks briefly with Hunter about the horrors of scout training and Belos confiscating palismen, implying that he had one of his own in the past, and admits that he regrets his life choices. This small interaction pushes Hunter to rescue the team and in doing so salvage his first friendships. 

But Steve’s most notable and memorable appearance would be in “O Titan, Where Art Thou.” Inexplicably on the Knee with his motorcycle, he talks with King - are we seeing a pattern here? - about his disillusionment with the Emperor’s Coven and offers to take him on a joyride across the Isles, which King accepts. After several heartfelt stops, they have dinner at a fastfood shack and chat some more, with Steve offering advice to King on some big changes in his life. In this moment, Steve does what few would have expected: he removes his mask to show a normal, handsome face. With the arrival of Lilith, he officially quits the coven and joins up with the rebel CATs. 

Interestingly, Steve plays a small but critical role in the plan to stop the Day of Unity. As the only CAT without restriction on his use of magic, he is the only one able to enchant a cloaking stone to disguise Eda. He would not appear for the rest of the season, and has not appeared in the first or second specials of season three. *One last tidbit is a tweet directly from Dana Terrace, saying that Steve is Mattholomule’s older half-brother and that Matt looks up to Steve. 

Now for observations and guesses. 

Steve’s enthusiasm for the Emperor’s Coven in his first appearance seems jarring when he later claims to regret joining, which may show that his previous attitude was either an act to keep himself safe or a coping mechanism. He mentions to King that his dream growing up was to be a coven scout, “to be considered one of the best.” This might imply that he had a rough childhood - the fact that he’s Matt’s older brother and probably attended Glandus High, where the strong survive, only adds credence to this idea. 

During his roadtrip with King, Steve shows some skill in origami, an honest desire to help others when he and King help a random small family fix their cart, and openly weeps at an elderly couple’s display of affection - which may imply he has a painful romantic history. 

Finally, throughout his later appearances, Steve shows an open and philosophical attitude, offering observations and even advice on occasion that has allowed other characters to grow. Not too bad for a guy who started out as a gag, huh?

Steve is an example of something rarely done well in a story: When a one-off character is given a chance to slowly grow into something good. Not just great, but good. Here’s hoping he gets a little more time in the series finale!

Thanks for reading! More to come …!

#the owl house #character analysis #worldbuilding #urban fantasy