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Wickenlow, garden of Erin, before she ever dreamt she'd lave
Kilbride and go foaming under Horsepass bridge, with the great
southerwestern windstorming her traces and the midland's grain-
waster asarch for her track, to wend her ways byandby, robecca
or worse, to spin and to grind, to swab and to thrash, for all her
golden lifey in the barleyfields and pennylotts of Humphrey's
fordofhurdlestown and lie with a landleaper, wellingtonorseher.
Alesse, the lagos of girly days! For the dove of the dunas! Was-
ut? Izod? Are you sarthin suir? Not where the Finn fits into the
Mourne, not where the Nore takes lieve of Bloem, not where the
Braye divarts the Farer, not where the Moy changez her minds
twixt Cullin and Conn tween Cunn and Collin? Or where Neptune
sculled and Tritonville rowed and leandros three bumped heroines
two? Neya, narev, nen, nonni, nos! Then whereabouts in Ow and
Ovoca? Was it yst with wyst or Lucan Yokan or where the hand
of man has never set foot? Dell me where, the fairy ferse time! I
will if you listen. You know the dinkel dale of Luggelaw? Well,
there once dwelt a local heremite, Michael Arklow was his river-
end name, (with many a sigh I aspersed his lavabibs!) and one
venersderg in junojuly, oso sweet and so cool and so limber she
looked, Nance the Nixie, Nanon L'Escaut, in the silence, of the sy-
comores, all listening, the kindling curves you simply can't stop
feeling, he plunged both of his newly anointed hands, the core of
his cushlas, in her singimari saffron strumans of hair, parting them
and soothing her and mingling it, that was deepdark and ample
like this red bog at sundown. By that Vale Vowclose's lucydlac,
the reignbeau's heavenarches arronged orranged her. Afroth-
dizzying galbs, her enamelled eyes indergoading him on to the
vierge violetian. Wish a wish! Why a why? Mavro! Letty Lerck's
lafing light throw those laurals now on her daphdaph teasesong
petrock. Maass! But the majik wavus has elfun anon meshes.
And Simba the Slayer of his Oga is slewd. He cuddle not help
himself, thurso that hot on him, he had to forget the monk in
the man so, rubbing her up and smoothing her down, he baised
his lippes in smiling mood, kiss akiss after kisokushk (as he
warned her niver to, niver to, nevar) on Anna-na-Poghue's of