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libidomechanica · 4 months

Text

Heart in days long enough; and, beating with my heart in days

A curtal sonnet sequence

Heart in days long enough; and, beating with my heart in days far-off, on that I were bryȝt bronde. Love through which our modern morals right, and her tongue in its thorn. Or Branch: Each Porch, each clasp’d by every friends, who touch, and sette hym stryþe to go vpon þe gres and frostie furrowes: drerily shooting his Eyes, which some call Stellaes eyes that holds a stately like Tom Waits. For grog, and could not leave to ask the greene cold out as well, because I wonde?

To make that swallows, in notes of Heaven. He popt him closer to have though in my honde schuld seye heþen. Will be quitt with heart did aryse, and be seene to mete þat may move, come live with me? How falls on the grass a long together in our own eyes, and in every vulgar paper to remene. And she is her bourdyng þay bayþen þy bone þat Salamon with a piece of Virgil, Tacitus, Livy, or of cape; but that sun thine?

Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in his present perfection should tell my early world of fashion, whereon my face. Do breath, her, myself to sea, they smiles, for love. And seem’d as if there was our warm you-smelling bed-dent after all, we can showe, but deep enough, and the fool; infants of them hath bene beforne when she is couþe quikly to cry; for in purple and most dear excepting through. With joyes are done, and each base, to fetchen home.

I ask’d no vows, nor of thy dove. Physicians say, or where nought, is it that made a cunning rings pour should reach its own grace could not her amazed they glared upon them moue; if stones, O Sea! Too slight Muse displaie, how cross, and made this heau’n, I trowee þat ȝe breue, þe blame reprov’d; I knew what, is þis Arthur of auenturus on fyn of þat ilk tyme. Never, never, she is comen þertylle; when a belovèd, and friendship like the pride.

He wept at length. The moon was an angel, and lenged, bliþe broȝt blysse into the vi’lets springtime, to pass, with chastned mind. Past the summer heats and may be such sweet Birds flew from his bak, bigynez to þis placid, if you had been sent What pipes may safely charme, and Cremsin redde, dyed in Lilly white, doe interrupted not, when her faults the blank indifferent from head foremost— sunk, in short, the tentie seedsman stalks; but being child!

What wylde his gray shadows dance and perhaps for their style I’ll read a book to which most dear except it’s greene wood, to byde bale with. ’ Fears and brought; and ȝe me breue, þe blake broȝes, þe tweyne yȝen he repent his strength one by conquer griefs congealing dominoes like a hawk, an’ it’s like a look at this time we were downcast length was told, or hidden fire, which can be attained, I think beyond the waking up from the finest wool, which can say.

Rang ruin, answered the Darkness must rise, for mon may of telle, hit were alive has seized my nursling new love by the heavy tufts of morning cannot boast; I was not much ioye, þat breme hornez. Steep; an’ she has twa sparkles of tresoun ful trwe, whyl I byde in his around them. For Bacchus pours of the boats, as stately swan majestic swims, and heȝly he þonkez jesus and stirless air: but Zoe the maker, Mr.

Go from me where he is nearest charm—she saw in your desk for hours that space saw nothings are blest. I know what beat double. Bi þat þe day sprenged, bliþe broȝt forth at þe lady hym respite, especiall grace, so sweets my paines me reioyce. Me to serue; and syþen þrawen wyth wodwos, þat wone when þe donkande rurde rapely a þrowe. So god as Gawayn, God þe mot loke! Lean penury with hyaena-laughters, too, may happens in time.

She hold, far less be steady view, but was used—nor sail nor shore appear, when a lawe as hit boyled hym þe scharp yrne. I drag it out, and cause, conducive to hide my wife she down torrent woe than did on his shade my life: my brow, he let no semblaunt sene; he ferde without the most in the banks, close for shore it more blest but I. All frailties that may falle, among prynces of prys in mony tene greued mony, and maidens loth?

So much he sighed upon it still on Menie doat, and there rush’d, and lying on the strife. As for their gifts. Beloved name no more a-roving by the tents but his, and, proud full sail of his father’s right, or in the brother straine. Or mountain when approchen there; she hanged my fate; little hands whistles shill: wi’ wild, unequal in it. Silence is bleeding, full of wrinckles and orpedly strydez alofte, kesten cloþen vpon; clere lyȝt þenne?

Heart, has shown me the lust of history. But now I see clear song of Orpheus voyce had gravel in its embrace me, renk, to ryche in no angry Pallas on this ghastly crew, and yet your brother, she sat downwards to the swiftest arrow for soþe, beau sir, ’ quoþ þe wyghe, Iwysse, worþy, ’ quoþ þe gay lady, ȝe ar a lede vpon fyrst in ȝonge ȝer, for him, and sitte and comming, wading, struck his thik þrawen þyȝez, with a silver star!

All has gone for me; I turned tyme twelmonyth and would be, if such a gesture and thing air. And eftersones of þe penaunce. But the Prince. It takes to rectify your name, was it for the head of his face, prepar’d by the inner me that sang the Venetian Fazzioli. Thou foster-child of sixteen causing at a mulne; what! Julia, I betimes come through her so soon awake, and I, its love, or twenty-four; and war!

Hit were could not come against you collide violence; the stars ’light, that she down, o this rich which now was seen unequal, wand’ring stars. The briefe in praying: for their lashes the toll which I found a thing which doth well denote love’s eye be true, for Gode, my friendly shadowy world. He had a wife and stylly speken, kysten ful comlyly kysses, and pinned with the news were beaten hyde, all in all to sadel, and wysse hym þoȝt.

And now nar ȝe not fears in Juan’s heart, I feele, and as bas the hoarse harsh waves untost, and carolez newe with sparry roofs and chambre and sturne, and kene men do not the chest wall a knife in the rocks with moss, just in the edges of the rose into the foolish men! Of dead, which we’ll enjoy tonight. As for the ev’ning Phoebus fired an angel of the faint in the town became my garden, the moon, unphased at night chills.

For ȝe haf waled wel better to wayte quo-so wolde. Wilderness each mortal as I was, in a grett wyse. The white limb of a broun bleeaunt, enbrawded and unwise,—well— Juan, after vertue disstryez. Each canto of the clark he was sober sad from his hed for olde, for thilke the day you fell through open field aloof the vast, salt, dread, eternally. ’Er it hung; and when it drains the warble of women; one sole bond awaits they daunce.

And I, alone, but with you was more wise tomatoes. For me I scarce see ever, the smooth’d his mynd? As I in it recite. But have possess’d, how he could I give you otherwise. But by surmise, no doubt we weep for the postes to dight, would be all to weake ground; he spoken the long-boat still bring waters glide! The trust? If ye gie a woman in his jaws, with gode cowters and at the suitors, when I am a man, instead!

Like a key in a lock with his hammock, long’d her love my kitchen, maybe looked up, and parten ryȝt þere on coolde; gawayn granted her: where soure to shoot out, and had it been the worldes kynde, preuély aproched to a place, sequacious of the hawk’s-bill kinds of roses of the valleys of Paradise. As again; our lasses gloue. For me: long I will commence a jurymast, and fiery dust. And sparkling roguish een.

The vermin in a bonke þe broþely as he is felt a qualm, and beam for roosting bird, I am here and called me. In two days it with our dark and then a sight to scanne: he, were this, grows too scanty draught of my life melts with renkkez ful fayre—þaȝ I were thing as it chills. To be school’d in a siker segge trwe, whyl I byde in yowre bed, burne, and he granted hir ful dep, þat fnasted ful fyne with Martha Ray aboute on þe morne.

For euermore he before, I pray yow, displese yow, knyȝt, and sudden thousand Virgin Mary. Because the bride to side: tis the Mermaid’s as pretty ring time, time. Her dryȝe a delful dynt, and kneled doun on þe more þen ani in þe folk on þe knyȝt totes. Go from me, not from sound, and you had a weaklier child it stands erect, and babes, and bede hym doun lyȝtly me the full glance a windowes ope, then lovers, whose wage is dead.

Clear and then she left, three words my Julia, prime of longing stirs again; our lasses gloue. That thou exchanged their wine, when others of the first cors come to hye. As all one another’s dog that loue; heau’n, I trow, loue refineth, o birds, and I schal not rise of songs for ever any where. Mind’s apart from heaven are no other tars who may have much provision of the rosy lips that pictured countenaunce and still as liver!

I put my arm aboute þo giftez, for soþe, and lustihede and could hope was none, pipe the things be consider’d: first, the sea; the thorn and bremlych syngen for solace set þay same. But often spoken, say, will then never, never heart, has shown me the sky not forth: here is wayth fayre he hym to his blood; but be much to a naval mind, some piracy, left his eyelids, growing in fulnesse freendship lies are Altars, Priests, and weep.

’Ve often she let herself from out the mind the pumps: I’m glad to me a challenge, a weake so wan, clothed with that dimmed her lips, pass the body gryde. Get up, sweet-Slug- a-bed, and honoured þat prynce of their Cakes and his costes of his elbow he arose, knowing the daylight in her e’e? The prize of almonds turn’d him rather earnest glance the outstripp’d by an host, so long breeze, that grows too scanty, with spelle, quoso myȝt.

Beauty bright, that I thus found them doe flye: what good, the long-laid galleries past alone he lent hem aȝaynes; þe fole þat hym rydes, watz grayþed for full fifty yards around them, is lost, life he wrung his eyes their veil and guile, that none may hit, for þre at þe niyȝt neȝed ful jolilé þise gentylest knyȝt and to shoot him thy best! Of all things regret, or neither play like truant rogues the dead body. No—none of the loved, why?

Some trial had bene defast. I told his native streamlets of delight takes in the young man was merely the believed, or even the slewed mirror waiting always full, as if she can breast making addition thus. When all smile and a day; now hyȝe, bot vnhap ne may have made her quick wave, and let vs cast with silence is bleeding far from the tree; the little sparrow, which made their Maister then gan he reled in glory!

Then lay stiff on his body be. Sharp violin, bassoon; all night I lean towards sunset and a broad stairs, and due to languid limbs; and thereto aye wonned to watch’d it death his tutor. He had been cast over. The Axes edge he tried there, thus to these hopes from your rest, and hunger in hert hit hard to a chambre, and mix’d, and she wish’d twenty lives. Neck the cool flowers my spelle, quoso myȝt. Struggle to escaped heart to snare.

And some of cherry plums suck a week’s soak, overnight thrice o’er the flow’rs so whipt me with slow dilation till Ida heard, tel it not for his chambrez with liȝt. How his appetite increasing to save their stock was damaged bread I broke with gret dyn to þe lawe, liȝtez doun luflyly, and grimly darkled o’er thy heauye head, whom thy shape with fellez whyle New Ȝeres morne for to asay þe, and her light and snow, nor the breeze.

In rymes, in braids behind in the lights. In washing down my personal quiet of a windy night shows stars ’light, and he saw the diapason closing full in this camphor, storax, spikenard, galbanum; these musks, these many thing else, or fades! Someone wouldn’t move, nor that Tim would smite her Hand perpetual feast, when you are not a worlde what high compas and cemmed, wyth vertuez ennourned in mote; brachetes bayed þayres.

This moment Juan stood, and, the faring stars. Laying downe, so he would go: perhaps believe a growl like the treachery of before yow bytyde! Tho would have had bene, a boffet paraunter I couþe wroþely þe burned in mote; for drede he watz wylde, and wine, when shall we feed? A fisherman he hade hurt themselves: what do I remember battles, fires, yet w’are not so long way down torrent woe than that roof’d them, made my heart in tears.

Would be neuter leucadia’s rock still on Menie doat, and that the dead: and all her heart, Beloved Julia, hear me still has gone for hir sake, disceuer hit on groundez þat he watz war in þis valay verayly his reign, sea-sick maws: strange tongues were met by my seker bi þe quile. Than this? There comes in vain: and others harme, and mutton, better like the white and so þikke, a stede stif men innoghe on botounz of þe roȝ wonez.

Was it his aune nome, at naȝt quen he watz Gawan þe knarrez with þwonges to thy speche, bot þenne? They fear’d no eyes nor stones trased about her mouths should hear her and after her, the woody hollows in which, though a fever, bot sum for comfort to kayre al bare, and could ever having seen. The breeze a hundred and berde, and though not lyȝtly, lachen hem all, to fetchen home May with þis he laȝed vchone, and syþen þis wonez wythinne.

What, if I myȝt last; for in your inspiring how she is gone. For his breast. As þe segge þuȝt, to lay it down with a smile, like to go for an aghlich mayster, þe kyng yow ȝelde, as hiȝtly bisemed, vpon whose longer; there would save us more to be told, or hidden: which? His broad, sunning with hande. And bridge of having no Grecian mayde delight, and the sweetest bud. The trodde in these delights thy fate and luflyly, and wine.

’ Ho laȝt at home holsumly slept; and, happy we have fallen the slave-market too, and lern hym bisoȝt of suche in þat wolde, in þoȝt. Spoke they smile still, to see one’s wrong they did the willow when no wind blew so stiffly yet, they hurt themselves but copy what you were born by the news were crying for Lebanon, dark cedar, tho’ thy little had brought; and he baldly hym dressed on þe des and off I ran, head-foremost—sunk, in short.

I was not exactly like you to turn. Not such a lovely stag, a barb new broke, in a whyle wel, quyl I leue nouþe; and vche lyne vmbelappez and oþer folk fongen bi rys for your will quite aghast, and flyȝes, with gay gaudi of grene. Afflicted upon beef—I won’t be your corpse for a chance of the women, mirth and idleness grown, a third daughters; she was in their cares, losing full in this day, to see that a shipwreck’d men.

Inside me is not the weed, my flower; a cat of twenty lives. Familiar ghost which I forbore—thy adverse party is true that crawled up from thence, for one to bring in the thought of passion can be: but Phyllis prayers, some hoisted of these long been done, by staying. Let none accordaunce make with indignant work’d as if they had but one such delights be in the ship gave a heel, and found, by sympathy, the shadows would find.

With buegle about they laid; and thriftie bitts of meate, for Bacchus fruite the greater need to noȝt, hadet wyth a wroth noyse. For lofty loue to boste, all columns drown’d with wine, and slowly nurst, and þaȝ þe ende be hasted with his tutors vewters ȝod, couples huntes. For alle þe rymez by þe rybbe, and mony aþel freke, a forwardez holde; and so well. To see the brethren here with power to dust and baffled our into man.

In the Rose-leaf of her stern-frame, and nothing more than chance to lift and oþer golde frenges, ayquere naylez, þat hor wylle hom last, mind’s apart from pride, til Meȝelmas mone watz cummen withinne wythhaldez, and I discovers then gan he crye iesus blessed the believe a growl like the mould; not like it. Ne no pysan ne no schafted.-Nigh changed, and must tell how the dead, whom every things are the silly credible. What did hem keepe.

And so had been born. With Hawthorne buds, and in her: the lots were mad for land, and you. From the stalk and bran, bread, a purse, begin your eyes; and thee that of a bullet tearing no place of thing clash her Golden Anclets to drag it to myself to sea, they turn’d to tears, which is the mind the use of our breast no permanent found a turtles sleeping on thy calmly great forefathers and glimmering thrushes, the street, rosy is there.

And al grayes þe gres þat cortays, your hence. At þe lady loutez adoun, leuez lancen fro þe swange swete, felle ouer his lightly dream include thee, Give me time it take wolde of hym had done they saw land, when my heart to their throat she winter will, and grow Ask me no more admire, would say the ship afloat, I know; but all, not once his venysoun tyme þe lorde on þat wone when their good is meant, as o’er my wound to write a novel.

The use of men and sete, sesoun þenne, quere- so ȝe ride; for I heard of Martha Ray gave with steering drops of displeasure the fire ants that woman is so nys þat ȝe lye nexte, bifore þe behoues. This was it could do nae mair: hers are not a Maying. Now was help me, ’ quoþ þat oþer oþer: after Crystenmas whyle—and I see my grave; they felt that be sin which thou would tear the scent that finer, simple truths; even the laye: with tale.

And when thought it seem’d upset; and form a junction,—so that, her ocean-treasure: weightless seas of schyr goulez wyth þe best boke of romaunce. Of her derne wordez: þou art here, your carefull time we were thy yeares green and kysses his schelde hit worþez to ȝourez. Of the cliff, towards sunset, on that did my ripe thoughts and her voice caress’d— a bolt is she with someone said it to me; the lawful reason that hill of moss so fair.

Some take thee fair and faith I haue most ravenous in his schelde, þat may ȝe wel trawe. ’Er saw justice brought flow’d in her teens, and fortune’s might, though in the joy t is what Meg o’ the Mill was bedde, þaȝ he lowkez his faulding slap, and Music’s power: and what remain with goud hert louied þe louies, and swere þe schene blod in his schelde to flyȝe ful hoge and purest in the flowery lap of earth when the bush, the worst to steel; others still!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #160 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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libidomechanica · 6 months

Text

“Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, and berde for”

A sonnet sequence

First Stanza

Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, and berde for a kiss, the hung till ioy make, and wild Decembers after þe folk at noon, in all the arrow cell in londe ledande for blys abloy Ful oft hath the maples for the most plain; as thou called in mynde; to soper and all of your conquest quat ȝe demen. He made com þe crabbed lenge in your Bosom she lies, traverse myȝt to acorde, for lo the great spirit that ye do, albe it ten for my heart, wide as he knew all. I have rented thorns and bound where trwe, clanly al same the same change art; they do swell, my inside our face and clattering crowne; who, thou art!

Second Stanza

No want to see, and he grome at thy proud humility; who his caple, and gotz away comlych fere, bot þe launde, on þe sele exellently sways at ease, how fast rennes of stone, and legs refuse: though the hollow kind and roundels fresh, at severed and I ne flaȝe fro fylþe, þat forgot, we rot and hit wharred fever. To joyne wyth no measure, that was, is, at last sleepe and pleasure to aspye wyth hit cleue schulde hard, naked faces, to shift this man’s hand’s heart to make ours, then as double-felde þat me gost lante, and bihinde eke. The young arms, and he ful tayt makes him round, and through blisse.

Third Stanza

To þe grete words, which in that he hade, ful still I may mon do as he sleep in one’s going to make now your boat and heȝly honowred with a word, their here. Is love for a white be named here are shining but for luf at þe trew night not Cinthia, she smile on his prest, and put under that the air of love? And now, And through lift vp sone; and as sadly as he thing heate? When my boast, wreȝande þis tablez, enbaned vnder lyne, þaȝ I had twenty time shoot: but stroke in courtesy. Of the secret from before says as ho stonde schal cach much, to warm? Ship in slomeryng his resound as the cup.

Fourth Stanza

Must go, and honest eyes, now, if thou pity by love that ye should shade. As wild woddes my circles, dancer, singer on their uniform. And holtwodez vnblyþe stones, and derely out þe renk and fragrant, luscious not so gret dyn to schote at hert holly in the man in old they at every rough. Those love your eyes assaid, Gee woe! Me when dead woman who like that modulated cantana of these pretty, to find and a few friendly þo haþel freke, a forwardez non so high, so it will sit besides thunderstand it will, and, green she sat with all my loue why doe his anious uyage.

Fifth Stanza

With the bell struck one, aloof. And stoffed wyth his liddez, and his armed, he com hider, brayden his frumpy home angell she hearted watz to þat stek on his window. Now Ben he watz so fashion of your worchipez quere fyue syþez hatz gered by this islands that to rule, th’other the center pillours rife, and faire faces blow in arayed, the maw-crammed be, according to the hangman with his wast were begot in Ioue with mony aþel is not rise and play in, trust, and hanging steel-mirror make that I charred aboute, clowdes of golde; hade Arþur vpon, þat mayn meruayl bi mount þe were redde.

Sixth Stanza

Composed alofte; and some say, is like smoke from love, but still loue did for drede, traylez þou go myn egge, I haf arered; a menskful þik, þat a scharp of þe wowyng of the devout with mony proud hert ful softe somewhere, whaever has met wi’ my Phillis, has made arabesques made alle þe couenaunt ȝe craueth sleep’s doubled aywhere, with laughing vault. That red Hell thy pity one less travelers they draw men’s days of a cup hast nae mind; and, and þe stabled bi woȝez, waxen torches vche burning the door into thee living forth to karp wyth þe spures vnhardeled þus he cropure, hit arn about her mouthe. With a flattering on untamed we bot neuer with light, and can returning wind began to go on littel daynté þare of water and has soul of his hed cast up from thy horrible hammer-blown rain, where he drank his quart of Morgne la Faye, þat þer mon, for a war?

Seventh Stanza

Meek forgiveness; a lowande wynnez þeroute, swez his bodi sturne, and He who have no fere he stern winding to thee, or a salt-mist orchard, lying of the Regulations busy wits to the scales is foule horror stand busk me no less, will defence: and briars and the fog. Than the sea, to tene; þe stele to row; in tempt her chambre and curls can yet themselves. We turn from your nocturnal skin. And þe wyȝe called in gyves, yet now he þat fayr þat telded by DLXS to commes to herself. Ah Willyes and heav’n drawn thy foe, to let the rivers, children of the sea places may I spende.

Eighth Stanza

That was grassy and smile can warm young and þerfore, bot neked, hit arn aboute, and left their boots. My legs. But could ye would despair for the breeze has been, and wythhaldez ful þik, and heart in þis work-day with his bronde, þe hyȝe kyng of time, I fear the ful stif mon kenne’: he gef hym Godde, ’ quoþ þe segge at þe bakbon to lyke chere, seize to-day bifore you they so formed’st creature she’s going slight giuing laughs at they loved Chick Lorimer in hert, and after wenged out what they Hymen is the grass and if I had two into stiȝtlez in þis ilk wele of any burne, bot þe lece to fonde?

Ninth Stanza

And the flowered Jasmin, and ladis þat yow lykez, felle weppen in hell, in toune. Stole my greefs augment my doole thou’t lover, and plytes ful bryȝt, with other’s shirt yellow locks the steps in their own death of what survives is godmon, now þou for the stopp’d not sink and sees but passed—praysed, and in its lone without breeze has dried me worth: here a boulder even your awen— þe heȝe ouer my Sappho’s breath of loues, like to stay. Not once a wheel of your comlyche hade in lost love’s flash and trumpets wanteth! Hit were, the Chaplayne, and I must go, thro’ the wore, her House; a Road of Right, and swing.

Tenth Stanza

If this, and þe knyȝt halde his gilt helez, and the small lies a wretch my spirit the iron staying, with my green-spread; since her side watching throughout all the whole you back Her, nor light, the golden in words this belde not me, a ghost, walk aboute, þat yow to þat tyde. He is darken’d; like a jackpot its center by trade; and longer we. Those voyce, when he came back wing. Midnight, thereunto doe daunce: my old musicke lende me grant with the harsh, but not be woods them thy husbands, and nedez hit fallen hym chefly, and ladis þat lemed vpon vs plentiously, and oþer men his cortaysy vses.

Eleventh Stanza

And hatz hetterly ho entrez. In crimson staine, and from commit are for my heart a lace honde hym þoȝt. And meled of host to war and his care of dull middle of trecherye and as ye may. Austere, so let this, I want, as language and fair Ellen of this Saints for fight, rhythm in armez, he kysses hym so þikke, a sinful and flowers, once and let thy fading many. To þe male death nor be afraid! A much baret is that the wild girl who say he put our prysoun, and swyerez comen þoȝt. Conversation of his bele cheerefully at the woods did me go to thee.

Twelfth Stanza

He hatz he hym in armez wyth a wistful eye upon your wished edge, sapphire— love evening sad those dear love my Chloris, since where you will lean Hunger and a spirit works did for a burde þe a stroke of eight: a mazer alone within us and impulse: and wonder of thralled on the carped to hys persoun, er God hym in syþes sere, and amber-colour and giueth lawn. No late, þat noȝt for ay fayth, ’ quoþ þe halue, and oft boþe, and the fooles he atled, þer is to make and your dearer name, where ȝe worchyp, ne freke þat swell; only remember may the people I had dout.

Thirteenth Stanza

Now see with his hede at þis fox þat hym swyþe, with þe lyȝten on Nw Ȝere much more vs answer and yow god þoȝt, if this Saints aside, the Ring of praise euen, al one; here in þat on, wyth a corpse! When no more death, my thou some straightway to itself. How long ere thy Bagpypes she before your Eccho ring. A voice, to your awen—þe heȝe kyng wyth in bourdyng þay bikende he watz wythinne, to hunt in þe wyȝe on his lymes so bright, blind, seemed at þe portrait that I leue me go, but who are in the woods did for greedy licorous sences thus so clene, boȝed hider fast, yts time. What!

Fourteenth Stanza

As if it were nonez, and heþe at yow ȝelde hewes, with pride, so we—the form by silence trew night moony, inlet—warm, seabathed, I wene wel, als; bot wylde, hiȝed innogh in bugle here I am becomes its poisoned hit called the young lion plain would wrong register worthiness of a royall her sunshyny face. And though on the same he went to sleepe, that he hade euermore thank heaven did passes whom I love where erst he worlde; at þe fyrst quethe of þe flet, ellez þou þro mon, myn is bihynde, preuély aproched to keep going to raunch þat ilk tyme. To the stemmed, wyth þat is gone.

Fifteenth Stanza

So it can’t feel why time in londe. The whiles should love letters, and colours rife, let the slightlest brace the wild girl keep the mair to serued, her good as Gawayn, ’ quoþ þat bred blent þer bayen hymselue þer wonder bi syþez, for Gode, my wedez, bremly þe chymné in chamber who I am. To meet at lyȝt, so that I followed hym dressing-room, like travel makest wealth, sae love the dull not reject, and lern hym a leper in pure lovers, children under þe flesh helps flesh stays no father red nor shall a glimmering on his winding-sheet he rusched þer stondez armed, he caȝt vp a wyndow, Sweet!

Sixteenth Stanza

But first I mansed the pale lips, our honour, you do breath the tabor, and you see how þat day and watches keeper …. From God than well please, dost the rye, to wastes, þat my heart, and thus it spake: o Elenor: he’s dead so sweet thou hast thou hadst set me, and loud they tripped to pray; while my woe, bende and forth roled; þe blod and day; I kisses raine, with rough, each shalt find out what you in a suit of Kings, I haf hade and a’ my days and fears as the lacquer of our shoes. I biknowez alle þe stone he watz blis and your Eccho ring. That the floating to the sun as Egypt’s peal, that euer in our tymely sleep reciting my tardy name, I schulde. Lest sorrowes þat self prove to the great Iuno, which giue to kiss, go on littel dyn at his melancholy night never, cancel all other lips toward does sad Time drew on, and let this song and patronize, and he struggle having.

Seventeenth Stanza

My fayth, Sir Gawayn, in þis change, time eats the heart. After your kiss. Hit semed, and to clay. So when I feel it in twynne me þerfor þat speches might, doe ye writing with þis world except possible not longer dream, then here be staid with soul to see. And alle goud wylle, and most since first bud? Half etaynez, with a standing and the tins, and þe last should keeps warm wet mouths, that walks by night, garnished it, that the colde. In a cage, puts all agree: what I loue I pyne of scorching her awake; for it not in vale, and, for me are what perfect thy servant once a whole young Lochinvar?

Eighteenth Stanza

Lepe lyȝtly he sayde, Be sayned how pure pentangel nwe he ber in our two in my pocket and fele selly longe; much pypyng þe frekez he inner cost, having spring, and solace by heuen vpon joy, when as those who would have guessed? Because through a light; faint on the day. And am becoming a jet stretched Elenor! When so þou were never stifly strydez alofte, mynned merthe to adorne: who sins fast þe corbeles fee þay wysten þe houndez þay passes between the world is filling the shepheards, til worþez to schwue ne to her; for hit is my body’s maid, you sing.

Nineteenth Stanza

To make sweet break at last, is þis Arthor. For the world with a smiled at þe large postes and holtwodez vnblyþe semblaunt sene. Those who reach other side o’ the quest any day he sayde, Iwysse, bi my face and yet I feel. Kisses again; a Wine of þe lady he sayde soberly your indifferent now to norne ȝe yowrez, al þe worchip walkez, debatande wynne me burde þeraboute þe halme gryped to cheryche ful longe as schalk schyndered if I myȝt. For helps flesh by the tape delays and knyȝtez and bidden usury, when þou wolde burne blusched on the dreary gras, twixt sleep.

Twentieth Stanza

Set in his seruaunt to swing. Now is þe lace, this Childe, how soon she sees most prik for paynefull dreriment did I learns for to dyȝe with a stake it not Thou this? He wolde no hornes; hit were; if in the centre sit, yet, wholly father day! It must since more faylez þou wypped to þe byȝt, voyded her. Wants to Lucy I will flourish. Lest guilty of your heard I none. Her giant loom the ioyous Anthea’s breach, and wroth with him night went hand? On brode paumez; for thy souerayne praye, and alle þe syde, til hit works in the Hand I and a hey nonino, for succeeds door; I try to die.

Twenty-first Stanza

Of love’s dead, the ferde for euermore with worschip þat his helez as wroth as wynde of man? And al I gif yow, so plede hit is large enow to draw men’s days are though she’s priz’d, and he store of delight, ye damsels your more. Even the flattered on þat watz tymed þi trawþe. But this wedez ar barely to-morrow will be. Into which may lurk, what now that alle þe meyny, on þe burne, as therefore I will not seen you come or harde as freke, quen yow in a sword he wende on my fyue joye warme water and hid hit watz haspe; and worthy to bedde to his function fare, how like your eccho ring.

Twenty-second Stanza

’ Gladly I trowe; no meruayle þat his tyrannies. Guarded for a lass wi’ a tocher, there can go together I would Wisdom of a cup, no penance that non euel oryȝt at his dedez, and in them were bounden with their death’—alas! Rushed roses taint, that al þe houndez to dele here, and al godlych greue. Beam had consent, to prauncing in rich rurd þat ȝarkkez quyl hit lyftes lyȝtly me to-day! Nor pause, nor the best gemmez on Gryngolet grayth, is not hit yow for schome þat day tarnished flight inklings of our belles an hundred lies; the bonie lass wi’ a tocher; they pleasure.

Twenty-third Stanza

There ar ȝep mony: if any freke þat oþer gome in the Past! Nay, as his mind; the main account upon a thing loan; that won syttes, swengen to thine earnest eyes like accountable of a coronall, and, the tears, and schadde, and even your face; but, lovingkindness’ sake grieved his song of þe Rounde ston, stod he show where is a certain or that loseth of the Curse of Rosalend who knows how? In the bare two doomed to uphold and be dear. Ne will get a riche watz innoghe on botounz vpon a gryndelly watz acordez þat neuer heart: wild honest eyes were never said to itself?

Twenty-fourth Stanza

The whole; should rather kill me, thought, and dryȝe. From the woods may answer, and standing in its gullies: we grow mad, naked lyppez smal laȝande quen yow in arms to oars and thus with my rest. Oh Shah, who in earthly clods: in dreadfully thought, and one of this day in assur’d, long sythen fro his couþe avyse; such would have him as he couch’s perfumes he distant caught in plaid, mine own bright, after a pleasure to meet in her ear in many a moment cuts they are your beds and all mindes drawn, a blue eye until as true sight think to þe chemné þay mette When my beauties, they in their glint of love?

Twenty-fifth Stanza

To þe knyȝt, and helde þe brymme tole to whom Fame wonderly ȝaule and he hit to flyȝe ful longer hovering merci, sir, for rurde rapely a notion that gave back to life which he schulde: hit watz teldet hym vp and didden mixtures and she only he might night is the hart did greued watz sesed at you are alle þese fyue were hard, nor a closets to mi, say she passed in presed hym non durst for woþe; he lyȝtes als, inter-sections doe there vnseene, to find; affections to help of my own. A skylark wounded in armes, þe stele of the bloody clothes, while the ioyous man, with knyȝtez.

Twenty-sixth Stanza

Around the middle telluric light lies in suck’d away with his desire? ’ Where in tech of tall glass that mayn meruayle, þat noble though of thee so farre meny, boþe his lips for euer bot lyte þat watz stoken of all its rose or whether is’, he sayde hider; for woþe þat lyf beres wytte of burning. Ne bere þe chef þat soȝt hym þonkked þroly, and his way he kiss Anthea, when the guerdon of tale to see how þou craueth sleepe: she oftentimes but not geten bot þaȝ my heart in the will not be moves slim shadow-land, when mists thirsts for him to do, till he was but things … and is hert.

Twenty-seventh Stanza

Of one terrible hammer-blows. And pyne of her woe: therefore sad, more and þik, þat euening traveler, long thou art did change. Gladly be broken by teeth of Gold: therefore, and syþen rytte þay calde hit hym anelede of my face and wonder that the pure loved by my second time spins fast þurȝ a roȝe bonk at his magic whisks and deadly pale. As al were bare needful at theyr laies and layde on her for to fill wind wener þen hornet in two. The while I warm wet mouth— rather, as just as embryonic chickens grow mad, and mone will go by. And syþen rendez. Give him passion, that say or sing.

Twenty-eighth Stanza

But as I have a carven silver jets onto thy body at its dew-drop o’ diamond here is even to þe burne blusched oþer munt for they burne, whose which my speech, the day dropped him lest he called art of bird of gently went on hyȝe, and stel hondeselle, he had hym þat alle þese were enbrauded semly hym resteyed, and I schal gif yow, so pleasure the sweet a sleped in war, or the mouth with the best can too with glad man came back. But let housefyres, nor our Eyes; a lace lyȝtly, laches rewardez nouþe; and þat watz cummen, þer as theyr charyté cheryche fest among.

Twenty-ninth Stanza

If empty place þat siþen ho, an auncian wyf hit semed welneȝe of þis hes healèd me, if I were to lyȝt, and, Loue, I though its worthy beauty born of praise be Thine! With many a straw. For I’m as freezing. So you go? Top powered ne fel in arms out of fruits and wlonk þe knyȝt of life with waking, and haylsed here dies and the mornyng, his launch. Hit is þe lyre and þik, hir bryȝt, watz neuer ber bugle to his owne: and the into his Heart to the sun, and see the her he watz þe knyȝt with swerez: here is vnþryuandely þat oþer blyþe, me schapen to perfect, every hail anamayld was lying and discontented by all lead; which with the vulgar masse, lays vp þe yȝe-lyddez, ful gayly atyred, silent among prynces of his belied, bear to make ful hyȝe, and life its tip gum, pungent, clear spring. With a star with Ruby and my lips when right euening close; but to grace.

Thirtieth Stanza

Learn, nor Mars; mine eyes to addorne herde, with pleasure, let þe hedez on his gold: and ofte reled in four o’clock we cleaned the slays the strong, be soothing, whose stars drink one could never came down, the tall glass not all that it may slyde his knez knaged wyth hert hollye be the painter’s cot, from Beauty in clusteres, of oþer oþer on fote fyrst, foldez more be some maydens meeter that we abase her modesty, the meadow-larks will not dare. But to his cortaysye, bi þe lyȝten on þe golde hors with greme þenne, more bitter to have of Lust must sentence passed, and syþen garytez ful oft he before.

Thirty-first Stanza

Two roads diversely framed, sleep’s double, as firme in erdez he took the blossom press sprig there watz wyth cortaysye, as þe comlokest to breed so wistfully at the light or Morning with defence, as þe wonder if April tell the worde vpon þat lofden, in early exposure to telle, and of stonez, and so dauntless may answer and try to select, what hath the best anguish, dare not befall, thought, and full of Life is over bank, bush, and soul and fiery arrows more is exacted; for the thou art or else may entertain the Hand I will be. When I the javelin such thine to hide there his cost of þe Rounde Table, and round, why blush to hear how thereto approaches—Ellen of his hous on fyrst, as water; þe world’s blame. And a ho, and myre, mon at þe hall-door, and watch the ben seuen wynter wyndez quen Zeferus syflez hym bisoȝt of þe profered.

Thirty-second Stanza

And in our own Ellis Island, when birds rejoice is before thanks one by nightly payed þe hersum euensong of more, replete the Hunter’s way: but let them brings help me God Bacchantes and with wylez fro þe houndez, wyȝez, waxen torches bayed þe habbe her Ears will not after; bot þe lorde, and yongmen cease your blod ouer þe schal sitte, com to know. To you, a mild reproof darts, now soone her mouth to the gory blot of gallant like a jackpot its center is a work nothing. And syþen þou wolde he ouer þe forlorn, my brave gassed the thing low, that frights vnchearefull heed, that Sunne, that she might see.

Thirty-third Stanza

All the naked lyppe and ladis þat self chapel; and al watz wyth a wrast noyce; þe leude, schal yow sum rewardez nouþer, bot þat day, in clear weather. So were. And shelter, to sleep who not indulge in þat segge, in fourme þat euer in their wings wi’ a tocher; then Natures for me, such high to filled; kerchofes of your speche, þat ilke: þat I stood before the lost, as I haf fongen bi hoȝez of special animals, varnisht lyke to sete on hys ax, and now to þat watz þe fayre eyes are does never would opened each hour, as burne now wontez, vch hillez; þat myȝt; braches here þer stondes, now, sir, for that waits for pure fyue syþez gawan and stemed a fulfillment is not reserved. Have fleeting shuts, a family of her within my madness might has no opening unattend your jeering on the sun hath presse, your kissed he foule euill have to payred to aery things are out silver by.

Thirty-fourth Stanza

For þaȝ my heau’nly ioyes, they ding a ding, didst rehearsal a single red cloþe þat watz runnen to þe schelde, I myȝt loke! On coolde; and some where never prayed, we grow cold. As the fingers on earthen worþyest of Terror crept behind the snare. Al þat segge þat þou schal sitte, compasses darken’d; like the incessantly forth to-night—the Champak odours fail like cleaned thornes; so mony tre mo þen two myle henne. To þe brydall bonds do sing, hey ding a ding, dying something among þe byhoues, shall song of Faith Sulayman and of absence sad worn the tremble innoghe to a marble of the dared. And often calls the red dressez on þe belt and con scho fongen bi his stand up and find shivering round, since left a fulfillment is the mon þer watz cumen wyth þe arsounz were not shines so mony aþel songs were so much joye to add yet truly, and yet turning, and praise.

Thirty-fifth Stanza

’ My Phillis, has met wi’ the boy’s palms were to þe wakkest, ȝif he neuer Kryst I kennes of Mulla which we cannot wear it on the sough as fear! As knyȝt þe dale alone, quiet once more shore shall ready for some palate in hitself. If any burde he hungry craving me the world so hyȝly þe titleres at thick and from Sin? I could not part it beside a Warders with ten-thousand patronize, and euermore. Best gemmes þat much of old golde. Bi God, ’ quoþ þe tulk þe table forth three-plank bed, and biddest me tened up mine in renoun of þe quen yow lakked of joy.

Thirty-sixth Stanza

You are more be in loȝe, bi riȝt. I have choses he did not think me better, þer he whole desires and given him off, deare. It did it did, and þat much solace of sleped in grayn al of green: and yet my woes I wrate; since more if euer glent with a broun. Be heart so much baret þat wolde I was white, there fixed are. Weeps the sea. Ho watz don abode, bot mourne vpon lyue. The bag of dryftes vp homes, and only with the double dich he lies in sunder Ful still for victory I burn. For mon mynez þay dronken and þe ȝonder me þink me burde bryȝter. Bid me steuen and conuersation.

Thirty-seventh Stanza

Than that feel it darken’d; like a single cord, but faire loues pain; once made it has blest the painter sleepe doe closes he þe luf- laȝyng of the Way of telle me here, yet let this steuen mony burne bode nae want, I wot neuer no semblaunt, and cancelled for an oþer folk fonge and wener þen Wenore, and that in grene chapel. But let in his aþel is now awake; for him Pity’s long thou thinke of eight: each into her and all you back or stained, and kneled doun as dreȝ droupyng of þe Rounde of my Life! Toward þe dece þat we spedly strydez, knit vpon þe morn, and bounden; þe alder and your wit.

Thirty-eighth Stanza

In ȝonge; I haf arered; a rach mouþe, hende knyȝt at home the snare, and at þe last look piercest at Goddez sun, þen leue hem a þonke for his mouths, that she hath the hands do say, spite the screendoors of care þat leȝ in his face flushed to decked in his gold sporez spende. In haste; use please, his Soul was wonder bi syþez hatz hit to the heart will be the spoke as when hey, for him to dance and orpedly he rasez, hurtez on nyȝtez þen any one my Door-way but ioyed in her chast of clay,—thou, or bowre awen seluen, be soothing which, shining is solace of þat lyf vpon fyrst quethe of þe bede me with hym maȝtyly as he heuenryche of hym had cross, how me which vse to schawe, þat bradde to flute, subject finding the mind the Snow, whirrs suddenly ablaze, her House without the widow …. And sayde, þe stif on þis Nwe Ȝer, his schyre okez; þe goud chepe no charg, ’ quoþ Gawayn watz much berd as all.

Thirty-ninth Stanza

The Virgin bosom of the poor dead man who hasn’t done that fate I could look like my great and meant; but all that conueyed, bikende hym stryþe to expoun of drurye þat I was a man and to masseprest, a thing but former, it were þat raþeled in mine, that well away? And dit with help of my own sins faster two so dyngne dame, and þoled hir bodyes on honde, and he short live, than onely by far, then to my gross body than the littel dyn at his fetures specially after Crystemas gomen bygan, or yet have a tip to its mitt, a closed. Make sudden alle his pipe, and caught your heads with Barsabe, þat sale al about they began to do þe day by day; who watch their grave! Of Rosalend who knows what waite on Nw Ȝere boþe wyth ful clene: at þis teuelyng of your bedde, þat neuer ber bugle he behest, and þe dede þat folȝed alle þe meyny made all aboute.

Fortieth Stanza

It year all my days and fractured ladyez, þat hopes I may not wring his venysoun of þe bryge ende bemez as hard by, made aware. This is a curse, and legs protesting eyes of the prison cup, in the chain another Sun nor Mars; mine own with lel layk and supply, till to spread out in the sand! I am pushing the strictly he was alle his eyebrows, once, and praise is due, onelie through to shew his schulde schene wyth her eye: areede: for each foot, wrapt in a fields and plaintiue pleasant Quyre of Faith the eyes did see the temple of all over; the sound ys signe of which thanks that metaphor!

Forty-first Stanza

Then disappeare of dull tattoo: I want our will live and patrounes crawling with bugle blowe your make out þe slot, sesed þat hym fayre great gold limbs: said he, I would wrong register two into God’s Son died instep too: and to sate its cold and fest ful þinges as when he rose tufts, in the mocking, forgotten the old along, with cherish! For soþe, sir, þis enquest is yet closets to ponder bi syþez hatz out as I have a noose about thirty minutes crawling with Barnaby thee watch whose Christ’s snow she saw me. Ne non wolde, þat were not walks by night should shade a window peepes?

Forty-second Stanza

And Sleep with their presently, and þus he could not from his nek, and þe hoge haþelez about the day, it eats the very praunce. I schal hyȝ me how the bloom, honeycombed with gay girland my fayre furled. I’ll dance with our round else he for best þat mayn meruayl as the flowers in hert, bot in no more that euer lyke, wel cresped and send it has met wi’ bonie green-spread her and yes I shall bloom the lovely, thy soul intently even lizard, crawled the moonlighted elms, sick mard by an Angels Sophistrie, that sweet upbraiding, that presence, O Joy, no long thee, his gilt hear; if hit me þynkes.

Forty-third Stanza

Such worch schulde loked ful clere, cortynes of feathers through all song o’ the door is a pond where such high poems stink like a Jugler come ancient hand, found strive, that thus with mony cler burde in god fayth, ’ quoþ Gawayn ful comlych quen þat schewez hym with his was he, the prime, when þe segge, I woled wythhaldez þou neuer payred. Of woll, which infinite clods, untrouble free as an old taint, it dies and of so fyne with spice and a tear, and his lyf and lyȝt, here, but you know, than for such a wistful eye upon the heart-strings boldlier sweet divinest and let alone, and left pulses.

Forty-fourth Stanza

Which things into a narrow passande vche a word. At vche wyȝe in you must you at last, the roof! ’Ve only words, along with swere þe couenauntez kest vp þe yȝe-lyddez vnder fete, þat none can I yow knowe! Heart. Not that, amassing on earth still the wife he saue—and Hope, earth’s smooth to karp wyth no rof-sore, which it could light the poor babes they made it has a pall, the children oute— and outward shows but obviously loked, wyth leue at þe lady hir call her love. The secret dark how theyr eccho ring. When holly her horne, and for joy in the dawn was resoun ful tame—ho wayned with Absence sad affrights are better, there vertical your knyȝt bidez ful softly say not be slayne. You did not mere, ȝe kest ho sytten, loude þerafter bi bonkkez þenne! He be a pitteous hasten down the midway slope of yonder heuen, and at eve voyage on gentlest bride’s favorite aggies.

Forty-fifth Stanza

For stops your ful stif mon hit prayses sink and ring words this your awen—and þat ientyle watz þe flesch wyth a strayte cote-armure, his golde ryngez, as clear the rechated; mony wylsum way home? Of sweet balmy lip when you must curse so darkly on groundels fresh fortune of this this day in assurance raynes yow lausen ne lyst þay token faste, ful clene: a better happed þerto ȝe trayst’: al laȝande loutes þer sparke is even Despair for to glaunce. And, to what does it was melt, and a shrine, and tyme twelmonyth þou trysteres, as þe harme, bor alþer-grattest in his cher meaning.

Forty-sixth Stanza

Back to life which in the britned þat watz þe lorde in fayth, is not wring here schal lenge in his arsounz al after supper, therein tis to thy be to sech to the supermarket using your seruaunt spring. And Good and the bag of drifted honest eyes, feed’st thou hadst set a lock upon her his cote wyth mony siker knyȝtes lufly hers, will not beares, sir Boos, and the song neuer. Much solace at þis tyme. To erase a moon-white seal. Now, lege lord comaunded in a fylor, fowre fraunch draws it freely gives and giueth law and scaur; then he fence. Bi þat wyth her face of heauen all was I forst thing else he mad Past, oercharg’d, to whom thou of lope, with young to let us now, yet each to tell in what dawn to each side a Warder is a desperate heart should instrument. Witness in order happier that theyr eccho ring. And in her heard the woe that I dared not sit with hay!

Forty-seventh Stanza

Least part: how high hyll, that wastes seluen, so simple seed this I will live as the centre. We tore than for the musick to light in fact only to clyme, and all the padded door for to haue. For boþe, wyth lotez þay stoken in stori stif þat holden, and I mot nedes, a sellyly of my words, til he schulderez here-biforne for to plese, þat ȝe precious notes, the same fruit presence dead of horsemen. Can it kissed unto her celestial through a little roof these flowing on his same way, christall grace their guided steps incessantly for me. With insomnia, perfect noonday.

Forty-eighth Stanza

Now far can compasses whom he love I rise in your form to sum wone. Midnight he learned in your boat a boat I haf herde telle! And I am hyȝly bihalden; þe apparayl of þe cloyster with hor knyȝt, here one; take it not stalked bylyue. More deaths than is no haþel and þe naked to þe swyre, clad all my soule from thy dear lovers love, and selly hym weue. Wy! And red with giserne in gay bed lygez, lurkkez quyl we may answer and his held, and I schal teche yow be chere. Placed wild and shameful darkness. In Gold an infant’s loss, and harder is a pleasures ful gode.

Forty-ninth Stanza

Be your daughter, mony bore hit for blame. Ladies for the empty world’s blame, in burning. Well agreeable, and she fingers of this at all their earnest word that wanteth! And alle his gamnez, to holdely, quen þis luflyly hit wel semez. He her prayse to waits for you see. The more is need off, dear! The deed the bitter look at the only pretty maid half his lyf and gave back to like, ever tongue doth my greefs augment. And cold and white! Thou art much it could not presence of þe stele to such a burde bryȝt golde for theyr eccho Nectar of þe belt he springs renew?

Fiftieth Stanza

Something sound-like some fresh Cuddie, freke, and weak, and he statuary it is not swerve aside, which meets all aboute; hunteres loken, while deeper knowe your gordel, myn owen now rydez. Before wit in the summe soþe—bot I am dead; he well hath drunkard. Which doe tender countenaunce apert, þe hert ful lowe, þe dore, and Gawayn goande ryȝt fyr better, I schalk wyth ful clene with this your make, and binds one’s foaming flare unders! Rudest bride hade broȝt hym ryȝt, redly I wolde I warm in my legs in Badajos’s breathes of þe weder of the Way of by resound: ye care of þis tyme þrowe.

Fifty-first Stanza

What did best! And wait forty-odd befell; they my pain I could not know this Saynt with frisked curtains and shall deuow’r with beauty in the riuers fete þay wyste from her so dere, till in which withdraws his lost hade vpon lyue þat his heavy eyelids. Thou maun flee, yet let it is soþ knawen, þer passed, as his due, onelie throat and be sauered with girland my Spectre folk on þe worch as few men the silently even yet, ah, my thou be at his devours, while she doth excell and yet, writing of enter’d cowslips that both it and sorrowes fast recall; earth bricks of the nunnery of the way.

Fifty-second Stanza

Now I mean to myself against my chere. By this: I never look, some sell, and London rain peryl and white-flower enjoys the crabbed, how þat, and al þat self find no part which do sublime the day by day, til þe sturne, bot þe burne now my pensive Sara! Curl unto the memory of some thing to the woods shall poor tear in her left their shoes. What is ridiculous. Before I embraced and ofte al niȝt; þe lorde sayde hym to rydde, and lyȝt wakned lote, þat fellow’s got the woods may answer&theyr carroll sing, that we spedly han spoke as when men love, give you, a swoghe sylence that wanteth!

Fifty-third Stanza

Men reckon what comlych panez of þe best habit together side o’ the fair are trances and gruchyng he love letters are ours, nor friendly þo haþelez þat cheualrous knyȝt, by cort ryche rynk of honey that Love slight is calm kiss those white shot. So sayde ful fyne with a step all song areede vprights; ne let their silver by far to have in me, till to his lif like in hands, as yow lakked oþer such and are blind, seems to enioy nectar drinking to do thee. Now al is yowrez, al þe wesaunt, and her prayses singer, a hoge haþel, in þis wyse to give up their life doth parch theyr eccho ring.

Fifty-fourth Stanza

When wilt thou dare to starve thee yesterday? He swung, so loue. On which passez alle þe skylle þat here mantle hand that Love bade me go to the bed al samen þe bryge watz gered of death. Became like powers the hym þe rydyng, with a state with ache? For of mine are wonder. That crowded you sing. Composed thorough the eye hath him slayne. ’ With mourn; your sound, and layke, lest I deuayed with a gorger water at the different seizure—as with a rynkande bryng me thine earnest words, am I simple truth suppress’d. Nay, bi God and elm have plague, Vertues store, sipping out upon her milk-white seal.

Fifty-fifth Stanza

Break the marigold at the woods shall be dear lord was what it is symple in þat þe goddess Isis can be anything, and so hatz þi helme ne hawbergh nauþer to hear that I may man make the while. And eu’ry part of bird of brave gassed in the color line, and alle prys, and bryng hym bryng he low-tide roche biȝonde þat schape his subject finde þat he has sometimes in. The Infernal Grove; the night and did. This hede, and I gif þe, lordings, and dalten, and what suffer to the heauen in fourme we oure for gode knyȝt. To many finger on hym to dryȝe, and sees but he died, that all that her bed.

Fifty-sixth Stanza

And she bell, tripping flowry gras, twixt sleeping eyes, ay seek the street, crying, ne any kyng yow ȝeldez neuer knyȝt with ryȝt þore, and thus! And all our vows, and cachez þe way then what Loues pain; once adieu; nor debarres myne thought there be not blue eye of scorching Time his blonk ful brode, þe knyȝt comlokest þat hit yow sette as love; fleshly eye, as is the heardest though I fly. Which it could heaped the scarce could not like in þat serued in fourme of his song neuer heart so he haylses, he has a mote, aboutte hym to his bugle here þe best þenk on þe last word may wel wrastelez wyse.

Fifty-seventh Stanza

All in which with mop and dernly and how insane the star-and paynes and with alle hit had return and swing. Souls of watercolor. Ten, whose force in thy lips when meeting on Cannobie Lee, but thus surprise. Thou that gives and grey, and all my pretty folly is harmes, ne let them my hede bot God worch schulde to be self I would brings boldlier that shook the bourde at þis tyme to me your pypes rennes of Kryst ayþer oþer ȝe mowe. And the children are two souls in pain, who never a hundreth. With staue, Ful wel þat hostel, ’ coþe þe lordez also living? Ridiculous. At þe letted off.

Fifty-eighth Stanza

When no moaning this maske to spekez ofte; his browe; gawayn he watz spyed and forgiveness; a lowande wynne goldenrod glowing, ever praysed hit about? It must on the Sheriff sterner stress? In þis blame. Into my tomb; or, like a strenkþe, ȝif ȝe haf þe, heterly þe myry mon, my dere, þe worthyly wondering airs they of ioy and feasting that so well in the Snow, whirrs sudden shock the grantez at hys lef home, for to see, and beauty’s treasure the sought, herre þenne he þerat, so loyal in desire my sleeve, or they’ll have; and in true playnez þat wroȝt watz boun, blyþely watz hasped in blod in Man that I loue. And wordes, with having soul its Difficulties? ’Mong Graemes of Yazd; and hearken to you, to you, all lay in them wide that all, several thing delightsome let house the hand, now ar ȝe no scream from out the pousse her praye, and þe þryd as þro þoȝten.

Fifty-ninth Stanza

He fixed becomes quiet smile can warm earth’s poorest her modesty, that every thine. To when men love; who, coward, in the cold, calm and quiet smile, a wide bot þay brag we hae a large, encline, and the Moonelights of Both formal pace and oþer, and gotz to þat prynce now what is hands, rose who looked closed from a sepulchre, and in their game of your face that rarest goddesse, shee slewe me with ache? His fiery head was lost, trust God: see all, the bird and grayþe, þat so wel wrast alway to his bedde, gawayn glyȝt of your mirror of houndez, hit were oþer burnez telle to haf a lemman, and things.

Sixtieth Stanza

The floors, and other the lacquer of host to war and bryng, among þe byȝt, voydez out that the winds are priuie to the sighing parts in other forferde hade goude laȝed vchon oþer wyth my wyf, þat merk at my head beauties which no eyes of þe quelled derely vndo as he slow-picked, halting that tomb already to his arsounez; and say it Cuddie, as þe lyfte vp his hors fethered: his seruyce þat ferlyly longe; as he staid with þat were rich happen, welcum to my very large enow to dryȝe, at last, to catch hints of blue whilst the morning skull is spurting joys to tell my Julia, and he honde. And I to take at dawed bot þay same. Forgot forsake ȝe þis gode Gawayn lis and gay, and heart. And derely vndo as he atled, þen brek þay þer expoun of druryes greme he gryed with eyes shall unarm’d, and round, since left a ful hardener of the worlde watz runnen to the sky?

Sixty-first Stanza

It I must we passed anguish. Never been the commen; gayn schulde loutes þere my trembling Croud, that sweet and luflych lokkez hem bitwene, we schyr goulez wyth no more—’ such wages as ȝe may buye gold to an ende. Love make know she’s priz’d, and mynstralsye, with a roȝe greue, hey ho graces daunce: my old man walkez ayquere, to him who’s smooth the great the hostel Arthour I haf fonge bitwene, wyth menskful, me þynk hit noȝt forȝate, com to hallez for the flowers to escape write, when he came up the lips, our Cot, and all help the sand! With adder tenor of burning with tryfles þe sunne, and closer?

Sixty-second Stanza

Her grown, and twist of us, and the woods no more that blenked ful clere þe hyȝ and brave at a curse so dark, and heardest thou hast nae mair to ask: for it is enchased man, and teldes bigynnes, langaberde for bloodless vigil kept, and al þat he wolde. Finally, you grasp in your eyes and wythhylde hit wele of the bels, ye yong men torturingly family sort of hellish Ielousie! That thus much joye to aspye wyth in a flowers the bedde to ful pore for his masse, Ande sayde, I schulde makes beneath his won, hit watz cummen, þe bores he atled, þen notez ofte al þe stones he dieth!

Sixty-third Stanza

So, take broȝt to þe dere. Which make it were, and at þe avanters, if thou height the passion which deaths be no sign, we saw the warp, Wher is too I know, and lende, and of all heart has light in his sparþe to explore, she rough-bearded bytwene: a better, I schal byden þerwyth of life was a good ber and the watz on þe mone ryse. He scents thy shape of life its tender-ship, cried; and fres er hit is my wedez. Where þy pay. Her side watching head. And þe knyȝtyly, as hit ful sone of hardened with Arþer he myȝt totes. Into worthy transport ȝelde hit holds a dying to the pollen couþe.

Sixty-fourth Stanza

For Man, since my lip when them down. Vault. Then longynge þay blw prys, bayed þe halme gryped to þe half, Gawayn watz more ioye. That men can claims of other do departed þe were a graves, the man had such a debt to pay her for one; þe knygez burȝ and þe last arayed, schon þurȝ forse of praise is darke place of þat broken, in earth—and the yard the Damzels, daughter loud that blazed with mery man ever take. I thanks one dead. And glent vpon þe same night makes the sun. No one’s through it bee that maken fiers makes you, to you, all in white till these they glided past, pay to adorne herde sayde: wy!

Sixty-fifth Stanza

Stay but reality distracts her. At peace at last gasp of living. I love lettrure, þe chaunge, whaever has made of þe wylde swyn segh he ne lutte hym laft, and pleasant Orange-tree; how Vlster light, we have thou’t lovers love or to frayned with the peoples show where do you hee’l flattering on the thin scream from God and coundue hym to spekez— neuer wyȝe schulde I hope is notes we sing, there’s a voice, to all dispers breed another’s soul, they more lykkerwys on to wayst, fynde, went hand, heavens you for twenty- five years to a twilight inklings of shame to pay her full day, and love Frankenstein!

Sixty-sixth Stanza

That flowers gather’d’ as subject Lute, places, by what come, and wyȝt watz spyed and brave man who live your hed held no Warder dare I chide the time an experiment dividing belly. Oh lift vp so hyȝe on his be heuy haf lenger þe foure luflych adoun and twist of þe dok lasted tread we knyt, syþen fonge. You will be dear love the voyce, which meets all thee alone can live in his little green leave thou hast thou send, less for the only pretty ring the best. From the gallows’ need: so with gret prys þat lyf vpon schape his mother ye virgin’s bloom, and now fancies shall iudge by the pond’s surface.

Sixty-seventh Stanza

Who like, like the song that if I should have been, and why he look upon the dew and farez ouer þe hendely, þen any one measure, drinks all—tis my father watz broȝt blysse in thee thy soule was racing all the incessant water þe loȝe þat I þe best register with goodly dost wake elsewhere, and crede telles, hir brest and cancel all of sunset through it bent þat deserved up my hede, and so dauntless in and talk þat þe an oþer, and will tell thee broun stel honde, þat wende. She cried; and therein on her beddyng watz mete, þe trewest on the heart for thyself chapel, for chaunged his gilt hear, and I to my staff the day þis aune nome, þen britned to do, slim shadows of the day; now an aghlich may leng in the least she may not for to spekez—neuer þe lettrure an example, fire partake, and comfort and fresche, as care: we knew they never be? And loud hearken to you.

Sixty-eighth Stanza

Ask me now þe hyde, þer alle hit acordez and bower, was it must, and all my lord Lochinvar. Hopped a ful hyȝe, and generative errors down with a blow! And wynter wyth guod wyl me wyth a scharp knyf, and glent al of air, and he ȝarrande fulsun hom, þe fayrest in a madman on rayled þore, and to chose, þe hyȝe honour, your steel-mirror of her dryȝe he lapped about, aboute, with girland groan ran their weak woman, came to fech hym maȝtyly as help a broun bleeaunt, by Angel mild: witless soul, but there made lovingkindness’ sake grieved be, and I schal gruch þe gilt helez.

Sixty-ninth Stanza

She hath, by Nature link the arrows castel, þe chymné bysyde, rocher vnrydely watz his fayrest Planet to ever looks familiar. Try thee mid thither, or shall guided steed was ne’er let it too deepe; griefe, with mony bonkkez, wyth þe blode blenked ful quaynt derf mon, myn is lent innocence: and ho soré to sete, þe froþe femed as no opening that I hate thee; those holy priests, lovers love, a tender-ship, you grasp in yowrez, al þe segge, and purer herkkened hit fallen hym lykes þat vnsparent, arȝez in oþer mon, grant innocence and schrank to þe grene stone-still, and vche gromez vp euen, hit half a year, and swear I did strive, the capriciously i’m fascinated. Be idle flickering daies labour bedde to him: Friend. ’St from the fresh garments are what he soȝt hym, for so ioyfull diets boast, and sere pyne, hey ho pinching your seruaunt be, at last! I never more?

Seventieth Stanza

Youth before, but health my rage of all of tuly and marching paynefull birds do not gete. Both of my face. Is its way, who never more shore shall sting eyes did ye still. ’St thou did not remove nor red nor sweet thereby; leave and on þat I schal bayþen in his wings in a mery mantyle, mete and plume; and ye this yeere on my eyes … ally, inevitably ridiculous. Which he to come. I wouldst fain know who lookest kyng as stiffen’d to Truth, unsullied by joy … the lands, and water has curved alone. So never lose a day or two. Then I knew it. Might should transgressions fit.

Seventy-first Stanza

As if it were; a balȝ and bitter gall. Is it to flying; give lies, that ye for to lasse hit yow tydez, trawe ȝe me that in your ideograms, how only remember me word: and tree or three leather ring, with the prisoner had ben seuen wynter nas wors, when shall fly and strive, the river or not agree to give, if thou like the cloud, and on felde þerafter, as if she ’d said, oh Shah, he baldly hym þe behouez nede’: and thing through acts uncouth, toward does all the pale chereless as neuer oure love lette þe same, but all the screen, or the Storke be here thou dost thou that blows, and bowers.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #153 texts #sonnet sequence

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