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Yon `s the glory at Dawn! ,
Encompassest`e twilight as doth moon’s giant eyes,
Perchin’ eagerly like a queen wreathed `f colorful dyes,
They art strong smell of scent, Made o`ripped musk;
For `em goodness appears as flock of starlit i`dusk,
Much glorious like a day adorest by pslatery and horn;

Slayin’ eyes as mild colours O`autumnal weaves?
I shalt call thee, A saucy fragrants of a fresh rains?
An elixirs t`bleedin’ heart much of muchness Juliet`s strains! ,
Or a springy nettles feedin` every birds with hains,
An eden apple fig, doth plant`d of eve`s sains?
Breedin’ beauties `n its canopies e’en at summers with lofty shades____

Whilst as dyin`daffodils, Upto a soil o`fertile shores,
Bloomin’ its paddles, a wit hath ne`er afore;
Of drought, , of death i’ grave thath hid as ochre,
Thou saw tempests, the thunders and fog i’ azure;
She warred the burnings, sailed throu` gloomy obscures

Harshy hues, Saddest lyrics wilt devours thy soul’s enclosure,
As thos`ethereal musics from evil-gods O`hell-holes;
Mournings plus sorrows marred thy mares for wishes;
Imbu`d temptations, burneth thee, ‘Till thou no more than a gouts of aches:
No man heal`d, Thou died, lair`d, buried `n worthless measure;

Decay`d thence thou, As melon outstripped by scraped wildfires,
Toiled thou upon the sun’s umbrella, earned some beggar’s cent,
Thou safed crumbs, spent out the bare rest;
Days, whence corpse O`dust art lighter than thy hefty chest;
Cower fears bedevil`d thy spirit withal mighty sabres;

`Uthinks, Thine tomb wilt b`as zenith, Than heavy pacifiers canst sight,
Or thine monuments, b`so bitter than a tongue canst lift a voice;
Somewhat, no planet canst pledge-a-silence, E`en now thou die,
Scream`d thou, if like a writhed beast or netted ape,
Yet no e’en a droplet `f blood to trace thine crypt;

Aha, ha, Lo, Heavy beams awakenedst her broad mout`
Like a hydrangeas `n moiste, Hath laughters of she continues,
O Strut, Strutt on ‘Tis niters plucked in far-fetched blues;
Less and for life, no more thath misery i`battles;
March on! , As thou march i` ranks of uttermost conquest

Let she kiss the golden face of her lov`r,
As the guns scuds throu’ the yonder sky;
Leavin` a thick eclipses of permitted felicity;
Stealin` manifold stars outta their galaxy;
Ev’n a finest ornaments `s the beauty of `tis hour;

Dance on, Dance froing and troing i’ thy scarlet lawn,
Sing, thine Romeo`s hitherto, The rainbow hath stoppeth for Awatch;
The shrubs fainneth as `emselves stretches a hand-torch,
For the kindreds `f kings, hath collectest thy presents O`gold’s scratch;
Beholdest I, As shiny art they like a glory at dawn
Black Fool

GLORY AT DAWN by Black Fool

Author: admin

I am a member of the WRR editorial team.

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