Beyond the Elysian Weald
A morning gale appears from the horizon,
to shelter the verdure of the sward.
And therefore the crumpled tawny leaves,
would be bestrewed by the whistling wind.
A quiescent water gushes beyond the dam,
upon the grist mill that flows onto a ford.
Betoken of the rain that shall cover the earth,
and mend the memory that is being cleansed.
From the mist of the bleary clouds is a rainbow,
which glistens upon the ground gracefully.
There upon a stilly mound of an abode nigh,
are twenty ethereal souls who lie in rest.
The celestial caretakers of a wondrous haven,
that bears the testimony of a sullen tragedy.
And there roam angels treading upon the earth,
as the wrens chirp as they build their nest.
Their pulchritudinous aureoles glimmer then,
upon their sprightful faces and grins.
From afar to be seen are other guardian angels,
to shield the façade of the hallow welkin.
They were beloved cherubs therefore forsaken,
by a befuddled soul through his whims.
From beyond the Elysian Weald chimes of bells,
peal from a bell tower the sound of lost children.
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