The Wardrun Srite

An occte lemne ravine strands the cairth lovers cage. Red as might the sulphur mists, mairds the maiten wished.
Aiscle crate the groat strief clouds wail, an mortgage say’ers fraimt. An euphemia reasts the vaileant scrend,
as the voud lidden leer greets His presence. Freer oust’re the loon’t criers waidge, an aite maccre fieds their famne
on grace. The coure lette, so fare thy well, to a-quenne lends and lire.

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