Stood and met a falling star,
How moon’s swifter in night‘s dark
Singest thy herde from the comet’s shower,
As serene like an ancient lark.
Shored and caught a winging star,
Near the riffle and the mart.
I with rouleau in Gothic favor,
Twinkled by twilight of thy spraying clart.
Shift and kiss a fallened star,
I be the squab and your soother are
Of shinning vigour, like thousand years be-part.
Je t’aime, my dearest mother.
So long live you been my love of treasure,
So long live non of we three could measure.
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