Page 556

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     night by silentsailing night while infantina Isobel (who will be 
blushing all day to be, when she growed up one Sunday,
Saint Holy and Saint Ivory, when she took the veil, the
beautiful presentation nun, so barely twenty, in her pure coif,
sister Isobel, and next Sunday, Mistlemas, when she looked
a peach, the beautiful Samaritan, still as beautiful and still
in her teens, nurse Saintette Isabelle, with stiffstarched cuffs but
on Holiday, Christmas, Easter mornings when she wore a wreath,
the wonderful widow of eighteen springs, Madame Isa Veuve La
Belle, so sad but lucksome in her boyblue's long black with
orange blossoming weeper's veil) for she was the only girl they
loved, as she is the queenly pearl you prize, because of the way
the night that first we met she is bound to be, methinks, and not
in vain, the darling of my heart, sleeping in her april cot, within
her singachamer, with her greengageflavoured candywhistle
duetted to the crazyquilt, Isobel, she is so pretty, truth to tell,
wildwood's eyes and primarose hair, quietly, all the woods so
wild, in mauves of moss and daphnedews, how all so still she lay,
neath of the whitethorn, child of tree, like some losthappy leaf,
like blowing flower stilled, as fain would she anon, for soon again
'twill be, win me, woo me, wed me, ah weary me! deeply, now
evencalm lay sleeping;
    nowth upon nacht, while in his tumbril Wachtman Havelook 
seequeerscenes, from yonsides of the choppy, punkt by his
curserbog, went long the grassgross bumpinstrass that henders
the pubbel to pass, stowing his bottle in a hole for at whet his
whuskle to stretch ecrooksman, sequestering for lovers' lost propertied 
offices the leavethings from allpurgers' night, og gneiss
ogas gnasty, kikkers, brillers, knappers and bands, handsboon
and strumpers, sminkysticks and eddiketsflaskers;
    wan fine night and the next fine night and last find night while 
Kothereen the Slop in her native's chambercushy, with dreamings
of simmering my veal astore, was basquing to her pillasleep how
she thawght a knogg came to the dowanstairs dour at that howr
to peirce the yare and dowandshe went, schritt be schratt, to see
was it Schweeps's mingerals or Shuhorn the posth with a tilly-