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The slack sail shifts from side to side, The boat, untrimm'd, admits the tide, Borne down, adrift, at random tost, The oar breaks short, the rudder's lost. Gay's Fables. I have tagged with rhyme and blank verse the subdivisions of this important narrative, in order to seduce your continued attention by powers of composition of stronger attraction than my own.
Away, from curtain, carpet, sofa, book from "society" from city house, street, and modern improvements and luxuries away to the primitive winding, aforementioned wooded creek, with its untrimm'd bushes and turfy banks away from ligatures, tight boots, buttons, and the whole cast-iron civilized life from entourage of artificial store, machine, studio, office, parlor from tailordom and fashion's clothes from any clothes, perhaps, for the nonce, the summer heats advancing, there in those watery, shaded solitudes.
The slack sail shifts from side to side, The boat, untrimm'd, admits the tide, Borne down, adrift, at random tost, The oar breaks short, the rudder's lost. Gay's Fables. I have tagged with rhyme and blank verse the subdivisions of this important narrative, in order to seduce your continued attention by powers of composition of stronger attraction than my own.
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