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Harmony n resemblance
                    In peace memory recommences
                              Razing or passing o’er asunder
                                       gentle as a tide or as harsh
                                                    We find the will to love
                                                N become suddenly at e loss
                                                     For little importance has tha tongue
                                                    When only busses and embraces
                                              rancor nd teardrops can talk

                    Music n muse of mine
Who thou art is determined by the sign
        Verse is a breath
                   a high mountain gust
                        or e howling winter front
                              Nonetheless it is beautesque that one
                         Who during the dance becomes the whole heart
Nd in the bed chamber summons forth the pleasure total
                          embedded in holy delight
Þis world ain’t so vast and different
From þose found in what’s written
             We write grand and tremendous of all þings
Þat we’ve imagined and delved deeply
              to try oh so potently tu give revealing
Yet when we look about and just see unobscured and clearly
       Unperceiving and wiðout þinking
             Giving þe world its chance to speak frankly
                   It’ll display tragic n pretty
                         for you n me þose þings most true
                                 Beyond suggestion ann interpreting
                                       Just simply incessant beauty
                                            in an unceasing locomotion
Þþ = Thorn ergo, Th, ð = Eth ergo, Th. It is not exactly in any sense perhaps as the ol' Anglo-Saxons and others of that time used those old letters. But call it trying with reinvention bring about resurrection.

— The End —