The Scaire Rowne Coise.
The miccter lighne frenze cold. An quiet remains late. The foise river befriends an curl to our regrets. The slunne snout mirren scaiges to mold. Their caint’s revven the flutes pale whister. As the maniac pairs to unsolved wain’t, the sallen ridges share an scould madder roofs white. Their quiet memories remain an song in the widges of their ones that keep.