A SENTINEL YONDER HILLS-PART 3

I'll groove with thee,enchanted by thy placebo,to nurse my grief and my tendon comfort sought,What should i do i here solitary with you? My gaunt lustre cavorting floppily,must not precipitous be, Come oh come my solitude thrust in thy drunken solicitude engrooved,What if this farago barndoor no hit,then shall i retreat again?O yes,squeaky clean shall i retreat with thy gritty chin ensconced,What if be potion,in the cuisine and saddle salivated which the sloths sublimely pother hath speckled to have me windy sail,lest in this quavering thraldom,causal forces my avalanche refrain,because windy sail beneath slothful embankment,rudderless bank seeth not?Then shall i stratagem,in the suble plough,plows reworked and plough again;for kismet hath steam being relentless wrestle itself cannot wriggle off this humbug tis mountain above gazeth thee stuck,i will not my proud cheeks temerity bereft,how if when awkward am laid in the tomb,And my graveyard wishes'horses with my dreary dreamyard,with me six footstone laid,