From Moonland, having come of a sudden,
Which sprite went on singing songs?
He thrilled with melody, set adrift on ideation;
Mind He did abduct, unmentioned.
Of thought's house there is no periphery;
There's no bar on coming and going.
Nothing is the like of its prosperity;
It allowed keeping both sides of sport.
In a feigned garb He had come;
He went, leaving the pollen of love.
At azure firmament with hint of Unlimited,
He kept sailing on a stream of song.
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Had it not been for His music, He could have been just extraordinary.
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