gri_2003_m_46_b04_f09_017
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- Mean dissimilarity: 0.061
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Transcribers
- 66541754 - Preacher357
- WINNER - 66635210 - elcwt
- 66656517 - xuelee
- 66851875 - gailkoelker
- 67466539 - ewrightlittle
- 67511157 - Molly_Carr
66541754 - Preacher357
(iv)Don't forget delicate sleeping spells,
Nocturnal embassies of repetition:
Inspect the mores of repetition,
Say them over until eight next day.
Keep the humped villain off the spine
By sleeping spells, adept, well-wishing.
Be up in time to welcome, not eat,
Lyrical birds for their chants and feathers
Praise the world this side the trespass-board,
Pleasure of Spring, grandeur of trees,
Braving Winter like sentimental towers.
(V)
As ointment of dawn is smeared on roofs
Pastoral bells tinkle against succubi.
It has been so quiet - the floating storms
Rained umbrellas on the hurrying sea.
Wait - whips of water throng nearby rocks,
White sabres flash against the barricades:
Smooth caves worn by more tides than knowledge,
Convoluted as a conch, are threatened.
The lassitude of slowest mornings
When thought would Westernise the sun,
Incorrigible fountain, leaping
Buried lands like stairs, three at a time:
Like charms and ardours of a youth
Slower to challenge than the glove he owns,
Or a bridge with ceremony weighed
Nostalgically tendering her veils to hangers.
Like being asleep, only to discover
Your refuge for the night was a giant's shoe:
Admiring baroque works in a museum
Where workmen of awake put autumn stiffs.
Knives reduce the curtain to a trophy,
Supposing me captive on the divan:
The aubade grows into a world next door.
Aubades too often heard from one bed
Are like whores that only asses fill.
The lullabye that sends house-holds to sleep
Cures me of the primitive night:
September is outside, green or rueful.
WINNER - 66635210 - elcwt
(iv)Don't forget delicate sleeping spells,
Nocturnal embassies of repetition:
Inspect the mores of repetition,
Say them over until eight next day.
Keep the humped villain off the spine.
By sleeping spells, adept, well-wishing.
Be up in time to welcome, not eat,
Lyrical birds for their chants and feathers
Praise the world this side the trespass-board,
Pleasure of Spring, grandeur of trees,
Braving Winter like sentimental towers.
(v)
As ointment of dawn is smeared on roofs
Pastoral bells tinkle against succubi.
It has been so quiet - the floating storms
Rained umbrellas on the hurrying sea.
Wait - whips of water throng nearby rocks,
White sabres flash against the barricades:
Smooth caves worn by more tides than knowledge,
Convoluted as a conch, are threatened.
The lassitude of slowest mornings
When thought would Westernise the sun,
Incorrigible fountain, leaping
Buried lands like stairs, three at a time:
Like charms and ardours of a youth
Slower to challenge than the glove he owns,
Or a bride with ceremony weighed
Nostalgically tendering her veils to hangers.
Like being asleep, only to discover
Your refuge for the night was a giant's shoe:
Admiring baroque works in a museum
Where workmen of awake put autumn stiffs.
Knives reduce the curtain to a trophy,
Supposing me captive on the divan:
The aubade grows into a world next door.
Aubades too often heard from one bed
Are like whores that only asses fill.
The lullabye that sends house-holds to sleep
Cures me of the primitive night:
September is outside, green or rueful.
66656517 - xuelee
(iv)Don't forget delicate spells,
Nocturnal embassies of repetition:
Inspect the mores of repetition,
Say them over until eight next day.
Keep the humped villain off the spine
By sleeping spells, adept, well-wishing.
Be up in time to welcome, not eat,
Lyrical birds for their chants and feathers
Praise the world this side the trespass-bord,
Pleasure of Spring, grandeur of trees,
Braving Winter like sentimental towers.
(v)
As ointment of dawn is smeared on roofs
Pastoral bells tinkle against succubi.
It has been so quiet - the floating storms
Raine umbrellas on the hurrying sea.
Wait - whips of water throng nearby rocks,
White sabres flash against the barricades:
Smooth caves worn by more tides than knowledge,
Convoluted as a conch, are threatened.
The lassitude of slowest mornings
When thought would Westernise the sun,
Incorrigible fountain, leaping
Buried lands like stairs, three at a time:
Like charms and ardours of a youth
Slower to challenge than the glove he owns,
Or a bridge with ceremony weighed
Nostalgically tendering her veil to hangers.
Like being asleep, only to discover
Your refuge for the night was a giant's shoe:
Admiring baroque works in a museum
Where workmen of awake put autumn stiffs.
Knives reduce the curtain to a trophy,
Supposing me captive on the divan:
The aubade grows into a world next door.
Aubades too often heard from one bed
Are like whores that only asses fill.
The lullabye that sends house-holds to sleep
Cures me of the primitive night:
September is outside, green and rueful.
66851875 - gailkoelker
(iv) Don't forget delicate sleeping spells, Nocturnal embassies of repetition: Inspect the mores of repetition: Say them over until eight next day. Keep the humped villain off the spine By sleeping spells, adept, well-wishing. Be up in time to welcome, not eat, Lyrical birds for their chants and feathers Praise the world this side the trespass-board, Pleasure of Spring, grandeur of trees, Braving Winter like sentinel towers. (v) As ointment of dawn is smeared on roofs Pastoral bells tinkle against succubi. It has been so quiet - the floating storms Rained umbrellas on the hurrying sea. Wait - whips of water throng nearby rocks, White sabres flash against the barricades: Smooth caves worn by more tides than knowledge, Convoluted as a conch, are threatened. The lassitude of slowest mornings When thought would Westernise the sun, Incorrigible fountain, leaping Buried lands like stairs, three at a time: Like charms and ardours of a youth Slower to challenge than the glove he owns, Or a bridge with ceremony weighed Nostalgically tendering her veils to hangers. Like being asleep, only to discover Your refuge for the night was a giant's shoe: Admiring baroque works in a museum Where workmen of awake put autumn stiffs. Knives reduce the curtain to a trophy, Supposing me captive on the divan: The aubade grows into a world next door. Aubades too often hear from one bed Are like whores that only asses fill. The lullabye that sends house-holds to sleep Cures me of the primitive night: September is outside, green or rueful.67466539 - ewrightlittle
(iv)Don't forget delicate sleeping spells,
Nocturnal embassies of repetition:
Inspect the mores of repetition,
Say them over until eight next day.
Keep the humped villain off the spine
By sleeping spells, adept, well-wishing.
Be up in time to welcome, not eat,
Lyrical birds for their chants and feathers
Praise the world this side the trespass-board,
Pleasure of Spring, grandeur of trees,
Braving Winter like sentimental towers.
(v)
As ointment of dawn is smeared on roofs
Pastoral bells tinkle against succubi.
It has been so quiet - the floating storms
Rained umbrellas on the hurrying sea.
Wait - whips of water throng nearby rocks,
White sabres flash against the barricades:
Smooth saves worn by more tides than knowledge,
Convoluted as a conch, are threatened.
The lassitude of slowest mornings
When thought would Westernise the sun,
Incorrigible fountain, leaping
Buried lands like stairs, three at a time:
Like charms and ardours of a youth
Slower to challenge than the glove he owns,
Or a bride with ceremony weighed
Nostalgically tendering her veils to hangers.
Knives reduce the curtain to a trophy,
Supposing me captive on the divan:
The aubade grows into a world next door.
Aubades too often heard from one bed
Are like whores that only asses fill.
The lullaby that sends house-holds to sleep
Cures me of the primitive night:
September is outside, green or rueful.
67511157 - Molly_Carr
(iv)Don't forget delicate sleeping spells,
Nocturnal embassies of repetition:
Insepect the mores of repetition,
Say them over until eight next day.
Keep the humped villain off the spine
By sleeping spells, adept, well-wishing.
Be up in time to welcome, not eat,
Lzrical birds for their chants and feathers
Praise the world this side the trespass-board,
Pleasure of Spring, grandeur of trees,
Braving Winter like sentimental towers.
(v)
As ointment of dawn is smeared on roofs
Pastoral bells tinkle against succubi.
It has been so quiet - the floating storms
Rained umbrellas on the hurrying sea.
Wait - whips of water throng nearby rocks,
White sabres flash against the barricades:
Smooth caves worn by more tides than knowledge,
Convoluted as a conch, are threatened.
The lassitude of slowest mornings
When thought would Westernise the sun,
Incorrigible fountain, leaping
Buried lands like stairs, three at a time:
Like charms and ardours of a youth
Slower to challenge than the glove he owns,
Or a bride with ceremony weighed
Nostalgically tendering her veils to hangers.
Like being asleep, only to discover
Your refuge for the night was a giant's shoe:
Admiring baroque works in a museum
Where workmen of awake put autumn stiffs.
Knives reduce the curtain to a trophy,
Supposing me captive on the divan:
The aubade grows into a world next door.
Aubades too often heard from one bed
Are like whores that only asses fill.
The lullabye that sends house-holds to sleep
Cures me of the primitive night:
September is outside, green or rueful.