God has endowed a precious gift to us,
It's the love of a mother which is so surplus ;
Even when the whole world becomes venomous,
She is the one who remain scrupulous. ...
Within the pale blue haze above,
Some pitchy shreds took size and form,
And, like a madman's wrath or love,
From nothing rose a sudden storm.
The blossom'd limes, which seem'd to exhale
Her breath, were swept with one strong sweep,
And up the dusty road the hail
Came like a flock of hasty sheep,
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