The wind that blows across them calls Ever at dawns and evenfalls, And I am suddenly forlorn. Across the pastures and ripe corn I see the mountains in my dreams.
a catenarian curve
I let them cool, then vacuum-pack and freeze them.
Look to it – is it likely that the corpse ensepulchred will take with lovingkindness these offerings from her, by whom he died dishonoured, like one loathed, and was marred by her mishewing?
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