Once, blooming in moon beams,
Then pust back into the night...
Kept so long in darkness,
She now shies away from light.
She tries her est to bloom again,
Yet, in darkness, few things grow.
She was taken from her moon light,
Like a hunter from his bow...
Shunned away, in darkness,
Kept from bathing moon...
The flower, now, is wilting
And solomn is her tune...