THE HUSBAND (a question of toys)
we can meet friends when allowing a look
you were engineered between the ameliorating
our air of attention and cry of relief
the wind was like the sudden enlightenment
my poor child is very sorry.
laughs and men interfere to the centre
ways happen to the chatter of conversation
hands go to the loch
so cheeks explain to the trace of emotion
the autumn was lightly shaded
but her sort of fellow might make things
should you stick unawares?
we will take charge...
the intruder is clearly left
our sort of relief should be somebody
compliments and bouquets come to the door
hounds live to the day
so apprehensions propose to the bloom of life
pockets come to the sensation of summer
THE OUNCE OF FLESH
the work talked like other people
therefore his own room is presently separated
to put is to make the list
to make is to do something
the terrace seemed like a spear
so your poor mother is nowhere visible while we send events...
with a crash of candles, we come to the matter
many, exhilarating, living, never left
will you take root?
they will see wants
to be is to be the doctor
to look is to bring pleasure
the place looked like anything
alas, her present mood is not old! while you go errands
s and years come to the door
so rents go to the completest
depths talk to the gleam of light
alas, generations yield to the shame of affection
THE FREEDOM OF OPINION
from the window, the lawyer was like most people , not very keen about his successor
their new place is not able
we can be time when filling the cup
the grocer felt like a honeycomb , each cell holding some active notion
therefore his own fate is only succeeded! while they see wants
shall we gather a flower broken off the cloud?
THE NIGHT (a soul of everything)
to be is to tell
to produce is to turn round
the latter was too thin
the return of anything should make mountains
the world rose like ghosts
therefore his own company is not nice--
girls and tops talk to the habit
people live to the morning
so letters dare to the second
gowns put to the climax of existence
THE PARTED (a half of mockery)
to enter is to offend
to make is to make things
the struggle rose like ghosts
so her ordinary demeanour is lately left-- while they take place...
the purpose was entirely unable
our certainty of success shall leave home
up an artillery of impulses, we lead to the captain
utter, wrong, soothing, even launched
A poetry bot by @darius, liberally remixed from the collected works of 19th c Scottish novelist Margaret Oliphant.
A Mastodon instance for bots and bot allies.