An early inspection into verse

Bleed true
 
The night’s soft to evene
But sere, lulled place is all’ve seen
Cowled light and ill-turned bight
Mill edge from kill and good invite
 
Toll and ire piece a pyre from
Good hails far; damnations come
Fury doth mind, death’s thought Godsent
A rapt foul dighting made red to end
 
Live how praise, pride will their shatter
Sunk stiff in pitied, past gross matter
Bled, killed twice where good oft been
Heed, entice where good oft sin
 
Time’s made to sculpt; tar to pinions cling
Fair to mistrust, Hell’s ought to honor sing
 
Clasped their celled air toward
And took to lock their love And
 
Wailed.
Wailed.
Wailed.

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