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Over run and river bend, thus the mighty gale meets its end.
Flushed and chased we apprehend, calling forth nature’s mend.
High seas and golden temples, awash in thy maker’s samples.
True blood and true examples, down the line and shown in dimples.
The heroes of old still shining on, battle worn and aging dawn.
From the pit of Olympus Mons, Ares’ touch in sired sons.
The gods of plenty bestow bounty, food and wine and all sundry.
Lower man the kingdom’s sentry, flesh and bone mortal agency.
Trite travails it be the play, the show doth reveal the day.
Life is flowing every way, ill will and come what may.
Baby’s breath and cooing fawn, new life newer spawn.
Cloaked in dagger and Revlon, here the warriors forever shone.

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