blossoms hang round,
the backyard a pasture of nature,
yet prettiest are the roses
clothed in pink;
ornamented with crystals of morning dew
shedding the tears of joy-
the pink virgin,
perfume the summer air
with sweetness that calms the soul of lost;
mends the heart of blues.
soon the eye of sky
bathed the pretty lass in marmalade;
there stood string of larks on bough
sing the jolly song of flowers,
create a symphony of march sonatina.
thistles admire in keen,
thorns jealous in green;
o beauty,
you are so ethereal, unfading,
in lust and love-
the backyard a pasture of nature,
yet prettiest are the roses
clothed in pink;
ornamented with crystals of morning dew
shedding the tears of joy-
the pink virgin,
perfume the summer air
with sweetness that calms the soul of lost;
mends the heart of blues.
soon the eye of sky
bathed the pretty lass in marmalade;
there stood string of larks on bough
sing the jolly song of flowers,
create a symphony of march sonatina.
thistles admire in keen,
thorns jealous in green;
o beauty,
you are so ethereal, unfading,
in lust and love-
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