Crazed through much child-bearing The moon is staggering in the sky; Moon-struck by the despairing Glances of her wandering eye
By shyam sapkota3 years ago in Poets
Beside the brook, the boy reclined And wove his flowery wreath, And to the waves the wreath consigned The waves danced beneath.
If I were in charge of the world I'd make everyone play fair No one would able to be a bully And everyone would get along
Whose fly is that? I think I know. Its owner is quite sad though, It really is a tale of woe, I watch her frown. I cry hello.
Whose squirrel is that? I think I know. Its owner is quite happy though. Full of joy like a vivid rainbow, I watch her laugh. I cry hello.
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