where hypotheses come to die (madman101) wrote,
where hypotheses come to die

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April Moon

An April moon may show her face
When winter's tune is all erased
And morning looks from east to west
And waste becomes amazing grace

The snow of twilight's longful haunt
Made from tears and dust of want
Do one day paint the sky with gold
And cannot April's turning daunt

From crimson crest to man-in-moon
From boiling air to fair balloon
The gust for life shall turn a cheek
And brush the face of April soon
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