Voice That Feeds
While her garden plants she pruned
Often unrestrainedly crooned:
Come her much loved month of June,
Mostly, when it far noon...
You hear her when rules The Moon
Or if Summer should be soon
Peaceful voice that feeds like spoon;
She had long mastered Gay Tune,
As Deserts had Sand Dunes
And a War Theatre Bombs ruins
The voice that feeds A Boon
Ears that it despise A Loon.
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