Ground of green.
Creek of pristine.
Mounds and mounds in extremes.
Some dragonflies seduce the queen.
The woods are mellow.
Countless flowers in yellow.
There’s a frenzied sound like a violoncello.
Clouds formed the face of Longfellow.
Rhythm of madness is forgotten.
Towards West confines the upland cotton.
Vines of grapes are unrotten.
Perfection is begotten.