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gri_2003_m_46_b01_f04_032

Transcribers

  1. 65306500 - not-logged-in-8608f60a734b16afac75
  2. 65343356 - not-logged-in-f0cbe29ebb8275e953b9
  3. 65369227 - judilyn540
  4. 65372371 - Milissa
  5. 65455622 - srasg56
  6. WINNER - 65464193 - southsidesunny
  7. 65467636 - Sabine_Tuck
  8. 65675951 - not-logged-in-dc021d940ab793fb9c0a

65306500 - not-logged-in-8608f60a734b16afac75

65343356 - not-logged-in-f0cbe29ebb8275e953b9

Here is a second sonnet for you:
Like dust on a book of Ronsard sonnets
Dew settles on a rose, each drop as clear
As crystal vases' facets, waiting near,
To boast of the pink captive, we won it.

Dew settles on the poem then, not dust,
Using the tender hackneyed image, rose,
And is refreshed, a book we never close,
And on its clasp, look, there is blood not rust.

Obscure and fascinating albums
Recording a collective deathless theme,
By irate, cavalier, and decadent,
Open for every lover as if Time
Had never won from Cupid the engagement
And made a rose his trophy with a smile.

Line 11 refers to any Elizabethan, any of Charles' supporters,
and lastly Verlaine - all of whom adored, as we do, the
rose.

A voice from the past. It is a poem I wrote, or rather
an unfinished fragment, before we were lovers. I do not
exactly recall the occasion and the surrealist images do
not help but it slows low, early, you attracted my imag-
ination. I had written 'rouss' on the top of it and must have supposed
you would never see it. But here it is, a part of the hom-
age due, darling:

Off to the horizons of intrigue
the afternoons of Trognard
the revival of antique bye-laws
and outside all night the sea
.....
.....
The train passes the ruined tower
Where a close has stopped at twenty to
Passes all ....... and sad.

65369227 - judilyn540

iii

Here is a second sonnet for you:

Like dust on a book of Ronsard sonnets
Dew settles on a rose, each drop as clear
As crystal nases' facets, waiting near,
To boast of the pink captive, we won it.

Dew settles on the poem then, not dust,
Using the tender, hackneyed image, rose,
And is refreshed, a book we never close,
And on its' clasp, look, there is blood not rust.

Obscure and fascinating albums
Recording a collective deathless theme,
By pirate, cavalier and decadent,
Open for every lover as if Time
Had never won from Cupid the engagement
And made a rose his trophy with a smile.

Line II refers to any Elizabethan, any of Charles' supporters, and lastly Verlaine - all of whom adored, as we do, the rose.

A voice from the past, it is a poem I wrote, or rather an unfinished fragment, before we were lovers. I do not exactly recall the occasion and the surrealist images do not help, but it shows how, early, you attracted my imagination. I had written 'nous S' on the top of it and must have supposed you would never see it. But here it is, a part of the homage due, darling:

Off to the horizons of intrigue
The afternoons of Fragonard
The revival of antique byelaws
And outside all night the sea

. . . . .
. . . . .

The train passes the ruined tower
Where a clock has stopped at twenty to
Passes all . . . . . . . and sad.

65372371 - Milissa

Here is a second sonnet for you:
Like dust on a book of Ronsard sonnets
Dew settles on a rose, each drop as clear
As crystal vases' facets, waiting near,
To boast of the pink captive, we won it.

Dew settles on the poem dew, not dust,
Using the tender hackneyed image, rose,
And is refreshed, a book we never close,
And on its clasp, look, there is blood not rust.

Obscure and fascinating albums
Recording a collective deathless theme,
By pirate, cavalier, and decadent,
Open for every loner as if Time
Had never won from Cupid the engagement
And made a rose his trophy with a smile.

Line 11 refers to any Elizabethan, any of Charles' supporters, and lastly Verlaine - all of whom adored, as we do, the rose.

A voice from the past. It is a poem I wrote, or rather an unfinished fragment, before we were lovers. I do not exactly recall the occasion and the surrealist images do not help but it shows how, early, you attracted my imag-ination. I had written 'poems' on the top of it and must have supposed you would never see it. But here it is, a part of the hom-age due, darling:
Off to the paragons of intrigue
the afternoons of Fragonard
the revival of antique bye-laws
and astride all night the sea
.....
.....
The train passes the ruined tower
where a clock has stopped at twenty to
Parses all ....... and cad

65455622 - srasg56

iii
Here is a second sonnet for you:

Like dust on a book of Ronsard sonnets
Dew settles on a rose, each drop as clear
As crystal roses' facets, waiting near,
To boast of the pink captive, we won it.

Dew settles on the poem then, not dust,
Using the tender hackneyed image, rose,
And is refreshed, a book we never close,
And on its clasp, look, there is blood not rust.

Obscure and fascinating albums
Recording a collective deathless theme,
By pirate, caralies, and decadent,
Open for every lover as if Time
Had never won from Cupid the engagement
And made a rose his trophy with a smile.

Line 11 refers to any Elizabethan, any of Charles' supporters,
and lastly Verlaine - all of whom adored, as we do, the
rose. A voice from the past. It is a poem I wrote, or rather
an unfinished fragment, before we were lovers. I do not
exactly recall the occasion and the surrealist images do
not help but it shows how, early, you attracted my imag-
ination. I have written 'rouss' on the top of it and must have supposed
you would never see it. But here it is, a part of the hom-
age due, darling:

Off to the horizons of intrigue
the afternoons of Fragonard
the revival of antique bye-laws
and outside all night the sea
.....
......
The train passes the ruined towns
where a clock has stopped at twenty to
Passes all ....... and sad.

WINNER - 65464193 - southsidesunny

iii
Here is a second sonnet for you:
like dust on a book of Ronsard sonnets
Dew settles on a rose, each drop as clear
As crystal vases' facets, waiting near,
To boast of the pink captive, we won it.

Dew settles on the poem then, not dust,
Using the tender hackneyed image, rose,
And is refreshed, a book, we never close,
And on its clasp, look, there is blood not rust.

Obscure and fascinating, albums
Recording a collective deathless theme,
By pirate, cavalier, and decadent,
Open for every lover as if Time
Had never won from Cupid the engagement
And made a rose his trophy with a smile.

line 11 refers to any Elizabethan, any of Charles' supporters,
and lastly, Verlaine - all of whom adored, as we do, the
rose.

A voice from the past. It is a poem I wrote, or rather
an unfinishe fragment, before we were lovers. I do not
exactly recall the occasion and the surrealist images do
not help but it shows how, early, you attracted my imag-
ination. I had written 'roses' on the top of it and must have supposed
you would never see it. But here it is, a part of the hom-
age due, darling:
Off to the horizons of intrigue
the afternoons of Fragonard
the revival of antique bye-laws
and outside all night the sea
.....
.....
The train passes the ruined tower
where a clock has stopped at twenty to
Passes all ....... and sad

65467636 - Sabine_Tuck

iii

Here is a second sonnet for you:

The dust settles on a book of Ronsard sonnets
Dew settles on a rose, each drop as clear
As crystal roses' facets, waiting near,
To boast of the pink captive, we won it.

Dew settles on the poem then, not dust,
Using the tender hackneyed image, rose,
And is refreshed, a book we never close,
And on its clasp, look, there is blood not rust.

Obscure and fascinating albums
Recording a collective deathless theme,
By pirate, cavalier, and decadent,
Open for every lover as if Time
Had never won from Cupid the engagement
And made a rose his trophy with a smile.

Line 11 refers to any Elizabethan, any of Charles' supporters, and lastly Verlaine - all of whom adored, as we do, the rose.

A voice from the past. It is a poem I wrote, or rather an unfinished fragment, before we were lovers. I do not exactly recall the occasion and the surrealist images to not help but it shows how, early, you attracted by imagination. I had written 'rouss' on the top of it and must have supposed you would never see it. But here it is, a part of the homage due, darling:

off to the of intrigue
the afternoons of
the of antique bye-laws
and outside all night the sea
.....
.....
The train passes the ruined towers
Where a clock has stopped at twenty to
passes all.......and sad.

65675951 - not-logged-in-dc021d940ab793fb9c0a

Here is a second sonnet for you:
like dust on a book of Ronsard sonnets
Dew settles on a rose, each drop as clear
As crystal vases' facets, waiting near
To boast of the pink captive, we won it.

Dew settles on the poem then, not dust,
Using the tender hackneyed image, rose
And is refreshed, a book we never close,
And on its clasp, look, there is blood not rust.

Obscure and fascinating albums
Recording a collective deathlers theme,
By pirate, cavalier, and decadent,
Open for every loves as if time
Had never won from Cupid the engagement
And made a rose his trophy until a smile.

Line 11 refers to any Elizabethan, any of Charles' supporters, and lastly Verlaine -- all of whom adored, as we do, the rose.

A voice from the past. It is a poem I wrote, or rather an unfinished fragment, before we were lovers. I do not exactly recall the occasion and the surrealist images do not help but it shows how, early, you attracted my imagination. I had written 'vousS' on the top of it and must have supposed you would never see it. But here it is, a part of the homage due, darling:
Off to the horizons of intrigue
the afternoons of Fragonard
the revival of antique bye-laws
and outside all night the sea

-----
-----
The train passes the ruined tower
where a clock has stopped at twenty to
Passes all ........ and sad.

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