The Moon’s a snowball. See the drifts Of white that cross the sphere. The Moon’s a snowball, melted down A dozen times a year. Yet rolled again in hot July When all my days are done And cool to greet the weary eye After the scorching sun. The moon’s a piece of winter fair Renewed the year around, Behold it, deathless and unstained, Above the grimy ground! It rolls on high so brave and white Where the clear air-rivers flow, Proclaiming Christmas all the time And the glory of the snow!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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