|aSuch their petals are Just so stylled are their petalsa| each of all has a stalk unto herself love and all of all of their understamens is as open as
|ashe posably feel it he can posably shea| and |aturned tournasoleda|
straightout or sidewaist |aaccording to the courses of things feminitea| towooerds him, their lord |a& stigmatisera|, that they may catchcup in
|athose chalicettes the these calyzettes thosea| parryshoots from his
|amuscalonea| pistil, (O my |agoodness goodmissa|! O my gracious!
graceness! greatmess! O my pricelestly preshoes!) |aas whilea| dewyfally as dumbelles they allisten to his elixir.
Enchainted, sweet |adeara| Stainusless, dearer dearest, we herehear thee, aboutobuds thee salutant. Pattren of our unschoold, deliverer of softmissives, send us a wise and letters play |aof all you canceive of from your holy posta|. Sweetstaker, we toutes were drawpairs so want lotteries of ticklets. Will bee all buzzy |ain a again one anothera| minnie for you are pollen yourself. We feel unspeechably thoughtless over it all so please kindly
communicake with the original sinse we we are only |alearning yearninga| how to burgeon. It was milliems of centiments dead lost or mislaid on them |abut buba| we can change in the bite of a napple so long as we can see your quick. Behose, our handmades |afor toa| the lured! To these nunce we are yours in ammatures but well come that day we shall ope to be ores. No more hoaxites! No more gifting in mennage! Highttime is up: be it down
into |aus outsa| according! When there shall be votes for foods for vermin as full as feeds for the fett, eat on hearth as there's hot in oven. When when every |alitty Klittya| of a scolderymaid shall hold every yardscullion's right to stimm |ahera| uprecht for himsoever, whetter |ain ona| privates, whatter in publics. And when |aall oncea| us romance catholeens shall have all amanseprated. And the world is maidfree. So tell Coquette to tell Cockotte to teach Connie Curley to touch Cattie Hare and tap Carminia to tip La Chérie though where the diggings he dwells amongst us here's nobody knows save Mary. Whyfor we go round ringing hands in hands in gyrogyrorondo.