The rune of the moon gleamed in scarlet.
Sunbeam has ever remained obsolete.
An omen was now yearned
from an ominous lore then hindered.
"Sleep, sleep, my clover leaf,
lie thyself in bushy sleeve.
For the swan is still,
and the pond is tranquil."
In the dark nightingales wandered.
Deep beneath the water he pondered.
As the mere entangled his boat,
so did the night engulf his thought:
"Dawn is ever near.
Tomorrow is never to fear."
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