A beautiful blaze,
Those standing glittering stars,
Blinking bulbs, a moonlit night,
Misty drops, dewy grass,

Twilight of the morning,
Sinking sun at the noon,
Doth thee not behold her blaze?
Yawning she at her height,

Crying low below her pitch,
Only to retrace her being.
Fizzy whizzy, fluffy bloom,
Brightening among floating clouds,

Whirling along the looming drops,
Yet in wait to get a command,
Taketh she next her prayer,
Doth thee not behold her blaze?

Crimson cheeks, pinkish lips,
Roman nose, hazel-nut eyes,
Skinny legs, fluffy hips,
Yet in wait to have thy gaze,
Doth thee not behold her blaze?

Editor's Note

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