And lo, a month doth nearly pass away
The warmth of thy salute, ‘tis clear to see,
At sunset, once again, doth reach and sway
Mine harmless feigning of a childish glee.
Fronds: “Feigning”
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And lo, a month doth nearly pass away
The warmth of thy salute, ‘tis clear to see,
At sunset, once again, doth reach and sway
Mine harmless feigning of a childish glee.
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