(Please Read the note at the bottom)
Desert thy land, lay waste to haven
Spread thy sorrow, hath not to save him
Keep to willow with sunlight pourn
To mild temptation, mild scorn.

Keep she beauty to dusk by horse
Laying down to things by force
Stragling victor selfless mind
Keep to you hath truth hath lied.

By crowd by storm, stream agony pride
Thy land be beut for non to side
To side with hatred, iron blade
To mate and bring yet nothing fade.

She whispers deadly night to dark
Seeping mind of man to spark
Keeping kings and fellow courtly
Stranger too by fire nightly.

And taketh she to highest land
For mighty justice lays thy hand
For she hath strewn for kingdoms come
And taketh non, but frighten some.

The day of dawn, sun rise, sun set
To we thine preach to no regret
King be praised, devil blundered
Simple tricks to thy hath sundered.

Keep to crop to peasant prowl
Marking down thy land to dowl
Father pray to thine above
Graceful metaphoric love.

Final night be cold and dreary
Sight like eagle, keep to query
Dance thy drunkard, feed to Summer
Hapless end to what doth shown her.

Spring, that whose every year is its last
and whose death always is the promise of its birth:

you pink between,

you softly to part,

you to come of flowers lathered,

you are a mystery.A cute curving mystery,
of slightly undeath.

a curt cutting mystery,
of increasing unhealth.

you're whose *** the mound of wreaking,
the confluence of hips,
and the pourn of roses, gardens.