No matter how hard your struggles to find a Beautiful World,since you have an unbridled mind to Travel,a pair of wings to fly.
Sweet death as like sleep, when it calls for a journey on its elated wings of oblivion;an oft and quiet,an escape from these worlds;that convey a harmless comfort with its concord dreams aloft.
The lilac moon came high an altitude from mine to clasp its beauty,yet next to my bosom hide, lies she,like ten thousand silver moons illumine;and her soul’s music showered words as she spoke wide.
Oft When Somber shadows veil the human laughter,and lowly made depression its doom above us sink,from agonal mind with grief that drive's and batter mark'd by the sails of lonely hours that steep to think.
A Dusky bee as I spare lonely sites,solely across nature's dim given strife,I, a mused traveler that my life hails,from a warm curious, and mirthful form,yon world I gazed in all my vigils.
If it gleams,the wakeful spirit, which the purest in mine own fill of ecstasy, daring to swell tho' be the waning night,whose fading,blast find anew a song the very latest from my quill.