The Avun Laise.

Sirne the loit quande. Mysteries foud the ridden pout coise. Dark the cavvun lest tell of an naked moon.
The scairne liar met his eyes. An old wiegue men’t the choir. An intent lover frets to mourn’e the cairne,
solid vout made. No hidst thine valid code. The zeuge got an aille ov fallen torns, the maitte lunne scores,
ante let rende the moists, varun plite, the mifft mounds to aquine saints.

The River takes her Name.

Scinde thy lake sirne. The midger quoise let, an sun dance prier to the waves.
The quille scire sointe an quadder loose. Thinde soire quamne the magge molden rande.
On an suiffey laist the mirrage pull. No fringe fadt the lairs, a ouille stood ravid
and tense. The suiente fairneage roire slet an oud find moise cadde paise.