She is beautiful when she walks away,
the graceful spine and sweeping hems of Day,
sky implores an image of her fleeting face,
pale blue eyes adrift in clouds of lace...
shoulders glowing polished alibaster,
haunted song of lark, her unearthly laughter
with timid smile returns the kiss of Dusk,
a patient wooer pacifying lust.
The rising moon, a yellow sapphire
ignites their slow and burning fire
in the bridal bed they lay-
the love of Night for ravished Day.
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