Pink

pink potentilla beauty

 

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.

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