Few are the mornings that harbor a timeless fortune

Wreathed in the promise of a golden dawn.

A growing splendor moaning about the waking badlands

streams atop the opening gates whose gleam feins

Among the unspoiled meadow of my soveirgnty.

 

A somber valley forlorn in an endless botany has

Blessed the partisan to an eternal muse.

 

Gleam among the unspoiled meadow my soverign eye

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