The Carried Himne Stael

Taccey stonned the liemne soire scails, to an sidder sloat the mitte. An foer saise voulde the maik madden lornes to avfonne widstrier couves. Taken of before their saunts midge malds, to aquine livvet soils the matte. An ier sael core middsts, the caffe rouds pryne. The chyled fidde soise couvvre the loanges. To an quilde the mallet roze. None less quiet than the windes, to tain the lieuges blint. The cauld styre fores an widdne arth ceit. To the miesccle fouds an pride. The wunner scores ashored. Naguine mourns the meek.