In the reign of summer our beastliness makes the perfection,
Two daggers missed the creation so solid and true of illness.
Tell of the weapon best reserved for death, solutions are here,
A moment ago, the weapons of the kind we love resulted.
I have seen the waiting of the spring and winter, but not summer
Nor autumn, the will of a nature causes the seasons to change.
You thought of higher results so plentiful in the seasons of joy,
The reign of summer reasoned with the cold, and the hotness of joy.
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