It was a beautiful morning
A light fog and through the fog
A full moon, pale and white, glowing
As dawn approached the fog fell
A sheer dressing gown slipping
From the maiden moon and in the east
Over the mountains came the heralds of dawn
Dressed in bands of gold and blue
To sweep back the night and tear
The last tendrils of fog from that
Glorious moon, to strip it naked
For the hot embrace of the sun
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