It is a mere mienerism of this vague of visibilities, mark you, | 1 |
as accorded to by moisturologist of the Brehons Assorceration for | 2 |
the advauncement of scayence because, my dear, mentioning of | 3 |
it under the breath, as in pure (what bunkum!) essenesse, there | 4 |
have been disselving forenenst you just the draeper, the two | 5 |
drawpers assisters and the three droopers assessors confraterni- | 6 |
tisers. Who are, of course, Uncle Arth, your two cozes from | 7 |
Niece and (kunject a bit now!) our own familiars, Billyhealy, Bally- | 8 |
hooly and Bullyhowley, surprised in an indecorous position by | 9 |
the Sigurd Sigerson Sphygmomanometer Society for bled- | 10 |
prusshers. | 11 |
    Knightsmore. Haventyne? | 12 |
    Ha ha! | 13 |
    This Mister Ireland? And a live? | 14 |
    Ay, ay. Aye, aye, baas. | 15 |
    The cry of Stena chills the vitals of slumbring off the motther | 16 |
has been pleased into the harms of old salaciters, meassurers | 17 |
soon and soon, but the voice of Alina gladdens the cockly- | 18 |
hearted dreamerish for that magic moning with its ching | 19 |
chang chap sugay kaow laow milkee muchee bringing becker- | 20 |
brose, the brew with the foochoor in it. Sawyest? Nodt? Nyets, | 21 |
I dhink I sawn to remumb or sumbsuch. A kind of a thinglike | 22 |
all traylogged then pubably it resymbles a pelvic or some kvind | 23 |
then props an acutebacked quadrangle with aslant off ohahn- | 24 |
thenth a wenchyoumaycuddler, lying with her royalirish upper- | 25 |
shoes among the theeckleaves. Signs are on of a mere by token | 26 |
that wills still to be becoming upon this there once a here was | 27 |
world. As the dayeleyves unfolden them. In the wake of the | 28 |
blackshape, Nattenden Sorte; whenat, hindled firth and hundled | 29 |
furth, the week of wakes is out and over; as a wick weak woking | 30 |
from ennemberable Ashias unto fierce force fuming, temtem | 31 |
tamtam, the Phoenican wakes. | 32 |
    Passing. One. We are passing. Two. From sleep we are pass- | 33 |
ing. Three. Into the wikeawades warld from sleep we are passing. | 34 |
Four. Come, hours, be ours! | 35 |
    But still. Ah diar, ah diar! And stay. | 36 |