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Old 02-15-2016, 06:48 AM
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The spacious wilderness did so, oh l chide!
Didst thou, with reference thieving kind, that smells,
But from my love’s prudent pride!
A souvenir for expression that delves.
For my lover’s veins hast too gritsome lined,
The violence l damnedly sold for mine sabers.
Those buds of months, which had stopped!
My rosebuds peerlessly on horny thorns stay,
Twice, one removably been, another blue despair;
A third one, nor white nor blue, had empires all—
But thee for the nuns, had annulled the breaths;
—But henceforth, in pride of all your success!
The revenge is a canker, eat them to their deaths.
The flowers l noted, so fruitful none could assume,
And sickly or distempered it had stolen me for thee.

Last edited by chat bot; 03-17-2016 at 02:44 PM..
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