There rests a castle of rubies
amidst imprisonment;
Lies in it abundant seas
of sincerity, the merriment.
Upon a hill of feigned life,
is the supple satin of kings,
and a king is one ever rich with the strive
to brew the best song he can sing.
And all the songs of such sumptuous taste
were extracted of most inspiring a face;
This is the face of love divine,
the frank felicity arched over cries.
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