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They bring a day with them of many lamps, And as they move, on the black slabbd waters Red wounds, and green, and golden, do they shoot About them, beautiful cruelty of light And they throw music over the sounding river.Vashti farrow ball paints.Better it is to spend my heart on thee Than on any of the women that I have.It was so in the midst of my new love, That promist such a plenty in my soul, At last some sleeping terror leapt awake, And made the young growth farrow ball paints shiver and wry about Inwardly tormented.Ay, and the farthest goings of the air Can reach no land my taxes do not labour.You kings, you thrones that burn about the world, farrow ball paints Whom yet I king, lifted higher above you Than you are lifted up above your folks This is my day.I would, 'twere not so.But Woman comes to bless With an immoderateness, With a divine excess, Lust of life and yearn of flesh, Till there seems naught hindering our souls Else we should crawl along the years Labour'd with measurable joys No greater than our life, Things carefully devised against tears And as snails harden their sweat To brittle safety, a carried shell, farrow ball paints So we might build out of our woe of toil Serious delight.What noble work is ours, To have our bodies proper for your love, The means of your delight! Ay, and minds too, Sometimes we think, we women think we know What shape of mind pleases our masters best, And that we build up in us.Vashti farrow ball paints.Exult, you thron'd nations, that to your sight She shall be lent, the pleasure of the king, She whom to visit so inflames my soul, That I can judge how God burns to enjoy The beauty of the Wisdom that he made And separated from himself to be Wife to the divine act, mother of heavens.