Our bliss was as the spring, a fleeting phase,
and brief’s the beauty of young lovers’ craze.
I dreamed a butterfly in golden days,
when buttercups lay in the fields ablaze.
...
The Thrill came slowly like a Boom for
Centuries delayed
Its fitness growing like the Flood
In sumptuous solitude-
The desolations only missed
While Rapture changed its Dress
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