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¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ See him beyond the hedgerow,      that lone, loquacious stallion,      what's whickers abound      and abide in their binds.           He stands still, eclipsed by the glimmer      that peaks through      the leaves of the stark      oaken shade amidst           the misty copse of someplace. O! How fair,      the wandering mare      that so happens whereupon      his supping in thought.           The stallion speaks with a mouthful of bromus,      which he wrought from the soil      that filled the hole      of a deadwood bole,           supine upon the moss, uprooted. His heart had begun to wrench,      as his tail went carried away      and his mounting hoof—      a furious commotion           along the graze— was so the glory of his day.      This whisper then ran down      the lady's sensual mane,      and ev'ry sinew tightened           to enlighten his stare.      t'was there among the light that           there'd ne'er be a doubt                in that fertile thicket,                now seemingly bare . . .                and that           alabaster stallion then                     went wandering about,                          his canter apace with                          his ebony mare . . .
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Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC
Alabaster
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ See him beyond the hedgerow,      that lone, loquacious stallion,      what's whickers abound      and abide in their binds.           He stands still, eclipsed by the glimmer      that peaks through      the leaves of the stark      oaken shade amidst           the misty copse of someplace. O! How fair,      the wandering mare      that so happens whereupon      his supping in thought.           The stallion speaks with a mouthful of bromus,      which he wrought from the soil      that filled the hole      of a deadwood bole,           supine upon the moss, uprooted. His heart had begun to wrench,      as his tail went carried away      and his mounting hoof—      a furious commotion           along the graze— was so the glory of his day.      This whisper then ran down      the lady's sensual mane,      and ev'ry sinew tightened           to enlighten his stare.      t'was there among the light that           there'd ne'er be a doubt                in that fertile thicket,                now seemingly bare . . .                and that           alabaster stallion then                     went wandering about,                          his canter apace with                          his ebony mare . . .
﹊ ∘ ⊱‧⌍  ⌈✞⌋  ⌌‧⊰ ∞ ﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋
the-sagest-assuager
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Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC
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