to safe the dew
from the sun
those brief kings're
stretched into cakes
these sweets are near,
gently dressed, for
the Thorn's Holiday
from the rose, oh, no
more roses in Virginia's
cheeks? now the roses
are gone you can see
the fox in her cheeks runs,
shiny-eyed & panting, from
end to end, quilted in hymns
the fox in Virginia's
cheeks is well-fed - she
even gives him money -
when Virginia is hungry
she sits in the sun, safe
as dew at Thorn's Holiday
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