Dear sweet Helen

Hera's niece
Halos often
Break our knees
But you found out how to outrun them
Or at least to appease
Maybe you did dance the righteous
Maybe you are our queen
Head of night
And starless Ravens
Wreath of gold and elder eye
Feel the cold come from the morning
Leave your Grove love satisfied
And I am not 
Speaking kindly
You are bightness
Over sanctity 
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