The queen of night walks
slowly, in her
Shining silvery wear,
Gorgeous as ever; with
Her brightness fading into
The warmth of night,
When the wind
Streams and pushes
The last chill of winter
To the valley of Spring,
Youthful, charmed
and blessed;
The world is preparing,
The world is slow tonight
Or at least
It seems to be,
Like always,
When I drag myself on the streets to home
With bare hands,
Strong enough to support
The crippled legs.

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