I walked upon the reedy dale,
Of amber grass and willow trees.
A gale bestowed upon my knees
The moonlight's boon, soft and pale,
And the scent of summer's liveries.
In the solitary wood, on the edge of town,
I found a pub, redolent with leaves.
I sat in a booth, wooden and brown,
Admiring a pretty lass,
A glass of ale,
And her scarlet gown.
John Lars Zwerenz
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