Fatherless Motherless Born Without Sin Roared When It Entered the World and Never Spoke Again

As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man who had vii wives. Each wife had seven sacks, Each sack had seven cats, Each cat had seven kits. Kits, cats, sacks and wives, How many were going to St. Ives?		Look into my face up and I'm everybody; Scratch my back and I'm nobody.
Goes over all the hills and hollows, Bites hard, only never swallows.		I walked and walked and at last I got it; I didn't want it, so I stopped and looked for it; When I found it, I threw information technology away.
Lives in wintertime, dies in summertime, Grows with its root up.		A man rode to town on Fri. He stayed there all night, and came dorsum on the same Friday. How tin this be?
Fatherless and Motherless, born without sin Roared when information technology came into the world, And never spoke again.		When you lot look into my face, I shall never prevarication; Instead be merely a window into your soul, whether there light or shadows hibernate; As in me many meet their deaths where others see their lives; In this deny me many try, just they only twist their knives; For though prejudiced to some I may seem, THE Lie IS THEIR OWN LIVES.
I am the part of the bird that is not in the heaven, Who tin drown in the bounding main and however remain dry. A final vestige of man that refuses to die. In mourning I am tossed at your feet to prevarication; I begin my job early, devouring your ankles and thighs. I work my style up, eating your legs to your waist. And though effectually midday away I am chased, I return quickly, To savour the arm of my taste. As evening falls I enter your lungs, Spiraling down past your mouth and your tongue. I feast on your torso, your soul, and your listen, but equally darkness falls yous shall notice That away I will become, a relief for some; At least until tomorrow morning comes.		As subversive as life, As healing as death; An institutioner of strife, Just as prone to anoint. Information technology is all that is good, Nevertheless with an evil tendency; As it was the start of things, It can too be the end.
As beautiful equally the setting dominicus, As delicate as the morning dew; An angel'due south dusting from the stars that can plow the Earth into A frosted moon.		Creatures of ability, creatures of grace, Creatures of beauty, creatures of strength. As for their lives, they set everything's stride, For all things must come to live under their emerald embrace. . . Either in their life, or in their decease.
Stronger than steel, And older than time; They are more patient than death and shall stand even when the stars accept ceased to shine. Their forcefulness is embedded in roots buried deep Where the sands and frosts of ages tin can never hope to touch or reach.		Inside me the audacious find Quests and treasures of every kind. Trolls, goblins, orcs, and more, await Within my closed walls for All those that wish to visit me. Your easily are the key To secrets untold, And your mind will unlock the door.
I run through hills; I veer around mountains. I leap over rivers and crawl through the forests. Step out your door to find me.		A golden treasure that never stays; The coin whose face gives wealth to all. Strands, nuggets, and dust of gold are all bought with its shining grace... And all are more precious than any gleaming metal.
It comes only before, It comes just afterward, Rises only in darkness, But rises simply in light. Information technology is always the same, Simply is yet always different.		It holds virtually knowledge that has ever been said; But is not the encephalon, is not the caput. To feathers and their masters, 'tis both bane and boon. . . Ane empty, and one full.
I cutting through evil like a double edged sword, And anarchy flees at my approach. Remainder I single-handedly upraise, Through battles fought with heart and mind, Instead of with my gaze.		I ever come down, But never go upward.

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