Thursday, 7 January 2010


Milky brightness shining white

o’er the cornfields of the night,

who could look on such a sight

without awe.

Moonshine darkly through the cloud,

forcing moonbeams shining loud,

never humble, always proud,

ever more.

Skeins of silk, how rich they shine,

whether weather foul or fine,

can’t compare with lover mine,


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