The Girl of the Mountain

Far in the mountains,
Where Nature colors them blue.
Within the grove of emerald trees
Lived a lass named Rue.

Wild as wind was she,
Blew happiness with her everywhere.
No sorrow could daunt the twinkle of her eyes
Nor any worry could pluck her hair.

Lovely she was, lovely indeed
With curls that tumbled down.
But the beauty lay in her eyes,
A beauty in which you could drown.

A clear blue were they,
Twinkling, bright and kind.
But useless as a lie were they,
For the lass named Rue was blind.

Yet another trick of Nature,
A reminder that no one is perfect.
Yet with imperfections must we live
For that, Rue’s example blares as a trumpet.

For the girl named Rue was just a girl,
No deed she did was too heinous.
Then one has to ask Nature,
“Why bestow a curse this grievous?”

Nature replied, “In this world,
No one deserves full happiness.
To understand its full value,
There has to be some sadness.”

The lass named Rue wished above all,
To see the beauty everyone talked about.
The rugged mountains and endless seas,
The beauty which she wasn’t allowed.

So she lived forever a blind,
Accepting her damnable curse.
For to heal her melancholy completely,
Acceptance is the best nurse.





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