Royalty of Winter

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He wears the skull of summer
As his crown
And shaded pearls of hail;
His staff of a polished ice,
The sword of winter night.
Trapped in throes of cold
His queen
And prisoner:
My dear Summer,
Must you struggle like that?
Soon, so soon,
You shall have the throne
Where ‘pon the fairies dance
And I bow down to your sun.
T’was our agreement,
Of half of each eternity,
Yes?

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