A Pore for to Hortay

I.
    O Love! my Love! I have seen a sigh,
    Thou sadst so?
    “I have no tort upon my thoughts
    and the bright graces of the sky,
    And nothing is a tear of the window of the sky,
    And there is a panther’s star.
    Sign summer and the sky shades,
    And will not think that they have made the sun,
    And the sun like the world that should be so much
    To make a shadow of my mother’s star.
XII.
    O gentle leaves, or sweet to the passion of the stars are stream.
    And then I love thee to your forehead

Generated by a model I trained with textgenrnn. Before that kind of thing became too mainstream.