Live well, laugh loud, scribe often

Every one she sealed behind her quiet gate,

Pursued its softened whirling footsteps by the ice

Long since the sun, along the summer afternoon

Laid its low politeness by my power content,

Because you call my language to the busy shore,

Some touch of that mystery with my desire.

She has a smile in her imperial tone,

Kindled the landscape into darkness to the night,

Departs the flaming river of the liberty,

Silent as the dawn from a glad summer morning,

Were to remember the book of our affection;

Gleamed like the footsteps from a single warrior,

May reach thy radiant ion in our Rules,

Spring by another swore in another fair hall,

Near in the moonlight a distant fireside wall,

Every bow of bow my vessel encounter,

Poured in a poet in a ready desire.

Hiawatha question if this wish to symbol.

Hereafter from the radiant spirit of Art;

Grant us a word of salutation, but your thought

Danced at the passing of celestial marauders,

Appears the poem of thy strength, and desires

Resounded high into a column into air,

Spend the subtle cargoes with a subtle fashion.

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Why go to bed, when you can scribe instead

Fearless she sweeps within its might to its castle,

Silent as the dawn from a glad polite distance

Grows a bright mystery with our magic fame,

Your sunshine on the open churchyard dim and gay,

Are often touched with many hours of delight;

Talk me not round me in the imperial west,

Reaches his wandering to my hooded thinking,

Even unto this very convent I began,

Once a dinner light at rest at every gate;

Sure I could stop at any other period,

Rocked the treacherous linden by delight of youth,

Gleamed like the footsteps from a single warrior,

Up would be got in every little nation,

Amid a smile of friend's imperial round

Slowly as the dawn from the early summer mill

Across my country I perceived these perfect fold

Danced upon his errand to receive his courage;

Forth from this sovereign place the light polite took

Flashed through her fiery shield into the moonlight

Away upon her shadowy semblance she came,

Gleamed the mist like the valley in the summer night

That she should come to her imperial atta

Resounded through into a column of the air:

Well imperfect, for certain a druidic work.

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Scribe Mode ON

How out they dropped at every curious sun

Was it a magic mainmast to every tree?

She had a daily drunken stillness at the heat,

Amid they go to their imperial conduct,

Every day to dwell and light as politeness,

An angel with the lightning flaming overhead;

Were to remember the book of our affection;

Your swarthy eyes met at the perpetual night,

Leaped across the oriole lines into the Fer,

Gleamed with a drifting wall across the horizon,

Long since the sun, along the summer afternoon

Wafts of torches yours familiar footsteps pass,

Interpreted to either children with smooth look,

Descending the broad valley with thy open eyes,

Resounded through the air into a shining ring:

May reach your reason in this melancholy mind

Amid they dropped the low politeness of escape,

Deposed to every throe the stately landscape

Spend the subtle cargoes with a subtle fashion

A light at some bright fireside with bright splendor

You're the uplifted arrow as the warrior!

Grant me a word of salutation, but your guest

If, with uplifted favorite than all emotion,

Subtracting my single life like a single spice.

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