She came to me, unspoiled maid an' fair;
remote echo of church bells, on Sunday;
her face was angelical in droplets of air;
she flied into nothingness, there to stay.
She flied amid cumulus to bestow drops;
Acceptable by me were, her gray clouds;
Amid my dusk shadows above tree tops,
Imparted were her Fall's mizzle shrouds;
There I was, arbiter of an arcanum bride,
amid tenths of heaven's scents, in ambit,
a spread of nimbus favored me, but cried,
her glance was a rain dance and splendid!
She stared at me from yonder stills, airy;
Utopian reality to overreach me lifeless;
Trumpets of Angels played in notes merry,
her eerie disposal and bridal affableness;
Thus I accepted her in Acheronian gleam;
thousand tears of raining, arcanum song;
she sang above the cumulus in odd deem,
crowning my wax noctilucent, and lifelong.
© G. V. 2012, All rights reserved
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