Inversions, and hold tidying

And here high arched, perching out your sight, mind, the waves,

And gold, crests, and all the songs, we should be there not so long

Not so fast, or deep peering that need to dive into the robust

Equations, no none, shall be heard, three pairs, and stained glass woods

You arms could out stretch, and your voice surely does, embrace into

The wills, of my thought, so, could there still stand, more set ways,

And more decent, plays, no, i think we could always, spring out, a

Wit of five, and always, know another glance, and node, to the

Stifled, wicks that are placed upon night tables (maybe not our own)

That when sought out, would lose some form of translucent, mists,

Which i might be accustomed to dancing in-neath, i hope you know,

And believe, it yours will still hold much higher, in the day airs, then anyone,

And all should be set to long spaces, and busied rules, that could keep our

Minds away for each, once, or place. No not yet can we starve off any

Forward limitations, harks grace will be upon the empty spaces over the field

Which time grows. And neither earth nor song could break clear of.

Is it in your name?