Let us, dear reader, venture int’ a world
Created by the pen of ink so pearl’d.
Among these lands be dark cerise-like lakes
That gush an orange fire into the sky,
Itself a viridescent pigment quak’d
With timely evening iv’ry shatters shy
Of flying creatures crawling with their grace forsak’d.
Be craters mountains and the rivers’ forms
That feeds the life of the land with their feed –
The five-legg’d insects that thrive when weather warms,
The giant honeybees with glowing seed
Of green that fly in buzzing soars with peaceful swarms.
Without the Hand of Man, the purity
Of worlds would least suffer with their security.