Page 403
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Tolv two elf kater ten (it can't be) sax.
Hork!
Pedwar pemp foify tray (it must be) twelve.
And low stole o'er the stillness the heartbeats of sleep.
White fogbow spans. The arch embattled. Mark as capsules.
The nose of the man who was nought like the nasoes. It is self-
tinted, wrinkling, ruddled. His kep is a gorsecone. He am Gascon
Titubante of Tegmine – sub – Fagi whose fixtures are mobil-
ing so wobiling befear my remembrandts. She, exhibit next, his
Anastashie. She has prayings in lowdelph. Zeehere green egg-
brooms. What named blautoothdmand is yon who stares? Gu-
gurtha! Gugurtha! He has becco of wild hindigan. Ho, he hath
hornhide! And hvis now is for you. Pensée! The most beautiful
of woman of the veilch veilchen veilde. She would kidds to my
voult of my palace, with obscidian luppas, her aal in her dhove's
suckling. Apagemonite! Come not nere! Black! Switch out!
Methought as I was dropping asleep somepart in nonland of
where's please (and it was when you and they were we) I heard
at zero hour as 'twere the peal of vixen's laughter among mid-
night's chimes from out the belfry of the cute old speckled church
tolling so faint a goodmantrue as nighthood's unseen violet
rendered all animated greatbritish and Irish objects nonviewable
to human watchers save 'twere perchance anon some glistery
