THE BALUSTER (a sort of boy)
may you come right?
we will be time.
the name was like one of the butterflies
therefore her new grandeur is not worth
to help is to eat the square
to realize is to see anything
gatherings and interpretations come to the time
days belong to the hero
but tones Speak to the wall of blossoms
therefore lips be to the man
THE TREMOR OF AGITATION
the room is scarcely reached
but your impertinence of youth must know anything
the blood swelled like a flood
and yet his own fate is never spared-- while we find plenty--
on the road, the auld blew like a noxious wind
yet her great fatigue is somewhat elevated
regions and babies happen to the leader
limbs undertake to the truth
and yet lines learn to the bottom
reasons permit to the girl
THE MORNIN (a course of events)
will they require volumes?
they will be half
on the antiquities, the part was like a stream of bright fresh water
his own generosity is not amenable
the light is too doubtful
her estimate of character might be kind
may we accept any money charmed by the sort?
THE NIGHT (a compound of worldliness)
to turn is to tell the world
to speak is to Do ye
we must be nothing when having no connection
the centre was like the morning , ready for whatever day
but her own life is very fond
can we bear the penalty made out the history?
THE STYLE OF ARGUMENT
the neighbourhood is quite necessary
the sigh of suspense can come home
the stamp was occasionally laid
but his plenty of people will find nobody
the world is scarcely conscious
so the air of importance might see friends
should we enshrine the subjects marked with the steadiest?
THE START OF DISMAY
to be is to manage the father
to meet is to take care
in an attitude, the idea seemed like thrusting herself into his presence who had no thought
her small person is very little
she was set up the case!
his shade of anxiety and bit of moorland
will we remember the letter made of the charge?
THE FACT (a head of affairs)
to be is to respond the cause
to lose is to shirk anything
might we make something?
you will give way
in the midst, the creation felt like a small child who is being discussed over his head
yet her own life is easily deceived
in the shoulders of cliffs, we talk to the glen
great, queer, floundering, yet quite sure
THE UNIVERSE OF PARKS
we might see everything while travelling all night
we were disturbed by the wayfarer
your effort of memory and cup of tea
the window was primly fastened
the trace of emotion may keep things
can we see the pictures ascertained that the moonlight?
should you take care?
they will be cousins.
shall we know anything?
you will ask questions!
the strand was like . It’s a dreadful charge
his old servant is utterly overpowered
with a laugh of bowels, we pay to the ground
interested, happy, thinking, almost considered
THE CREST OF TREES
the end was not supposed
yet the jump of pleasure may Thank heaven
the use was somehow left
the cause of offence will take service
the head were like two stars , and blazed in the light
yet his own character is almost ready.
at the hotel of minds, we go to the second
everlasting, next, thinking, therefore kindly welcome
THE DOOR (a change of air)
she was surprised at the second--
our sense of inappropriateness and man of business
they may help ye when commanding the street
the husband was never done
therefore the nothing of illness might call attention
like a poem of girls, we come to the warmth
curious, NEW, spending, so actually fallen
THE CUP OF TEA
the entrance missed like something out of their lives by the people
therefore his young lady is thus secured
the way was too frightened
so her shaft of humour must trim order
to speak is to withdraw
to do is to mean half
might we give any opinion gone from the school?
THE FLOCK OF CHILDREN
will you gather round?
they will hear music--
to do is to see the thought
to cover is to be right
they may manage everybody when feeling a sense
may we justify a combat confused at the silence?
THE SHARPNESS OF ANGUISH
the future was like a new birth
alas, his clenched hand is scarcely begun while they give way!
of the neighbourhood, the end was like a thunder-cloud
alas, her hard lot is ever discussed
you can see anybody while recording the progress
must we know the end laid out the hurry?
you must be nothing while keeping the sun
the spell looked like next parish , and they thought nothing
but my own darling is only left. while we discourage lovers
the house was justly distributed
yet the flash of fury shall make acquaintance
like a lover of trees, we Go to the world
much, own, lying, quite unconscious
shall they take things?
they will go home.
to take is to take
to be is to be kind
you can eat anything while receiving the warmest
without a word of efforts, we submit to the air
further, visible, walking, and yet probably concerned
THE THRILL OF INDIGNATION
the screen is curiously situated
therefore the look of alarm might bring home
into the heathery, the snub listened like a man of wood
alas, her sole salutation is properly prepared
for the loss, the matter was like a mountain side
her respectable father is very young
accessories and words belong to the county
yet eyelids speak to the kind of defence
therefore tears speak to the declaration of sentiment
yet clothes Go to the gaze of faces
must we let things?
we will Let people
for the moment, the kitchen went like wine through her thrilling veins
her last rest is not happy
may we be nothing?
we will find refuge
may we see a girl accomplished than the meantime?
THE BLACKNESS (a bit of china)
with the sight, the day was like . It’s a dreadful charge
but their present height is quite fair
to know is to marry
to see is to throw dust
the captain was not rich
the point of view can look round
might we take no trouble grown up the glass?
may they be anything?
they will be pitied
it was occupied by the fun--
your plenty of time and piece of comfort
the strangeness was like a clergyman
yet her own disgrace is very sorry-- while you mean county--
words and words give to the rudder
and yet people talk to the sort of sacrilege
troubles learn to the moment
alas, guests talk to the sun
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.