The Angel of the Moon
The angel of the moon –
She spoke so softly
Upon the forest:
‘Our river weeps the passage
Of her soil unto starlight.’
I feared upon that dreary –
Her beauty had taken me,
And enclosed my lovesick soul
In the eerie stillness
Of hemlock shadows.
But deceiving me in darkness
Was my old, tarnished friend,
And together did we leave
Along the Root River way.
O’ Lemongrass, how many times do I have to tell you!
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