ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ
ㅤㅤ𝐓he moon was but a chin of gold. A night or two ago, and now she turns her 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 upon the world below. Her forehead is ofamolest blond ; Her cheek like 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 ; Her eye unto the summer dew.
Her lips of amber never part ; But what must the 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒, upon her friend she could bestow. Were such her silver will. And what a privilege to be. But the remotest 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓. For certainly her way might pass beside your twinkling door.
ㅤㅤ𝐓he moon was but a chin of gold. A night or two ago, and now she turns her 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 upon the world below. Her forehead is ofamolest blond ; Her cheek like 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 ; Her eye unto the summer dew.
Her lips of amber never part ; But what must the 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒, upon her friend she could bestow. Were such her silver will. And what a privilege to be. But the remotest 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓. For certainly her way might pass beside your twinkling door.