Pink are her cheeks, in an August-moon glow,
Pink is the blush of her maidenly smile;
Daintily stepping, her pretty pink feet
Carry her many a pretty pink mile.
Sunset paints rainbows on eventide’s brow,
Staining her world in cathedral-pink hue;
Pink are the thoughts which she ponders the while
As powder-pink clouds wash her hair with pink dew.