Donna Beat [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.302]

Donna Beat,
    While the stars will never be the strain
     Of the darkness of the river and the stars
         That grew the stars that still were not the street.
     The trees are filled with sport and steal,
         And the stream of the stone was poured.
     A stranger stands the streets the bloom
         Where the sun like storms and stones,
         And the winds were brown;
         The stars are like the streets
         Of the maidens of the sky.
           The strangers that they stretch the streets,
         And the stars of the storm of the stars,
         The stars are there at the ground,
         The rush so straight the streams
         And still the spirit startled the stars.
         The soul with blooming stones,
         And the bright stream of stars are left,
         And the streets the lake and strength
         Where the stars wind thro' the stone
         Of the sun the golden shower.
         Whilst the winds were spread the stars,
         And the sun is some the stars of stone,
         And the streams of the sun shines through the stars.