Maiden of the moonlit night,
A beauty sweet, unbidden,
Awaiting love in gentle twilight,
Why must she remain so hidden?
A rosebud in the morning,
An angel in the eve,
The object of much bitter scorning,
In her dreams they don't believe.
Perhaps a prince is what she seeks,
Or maybe a monster to swallow her whole.
Her life may simply seem so bleak
That death may be her final goal.
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