Here dost dance the summer magic the fire in the sky that lights the land ablaze. Base lipped maidens who proclaim it cruel and strong men to pet them docile while the magic 'bout them burns with all the heat of the scorned gaze.
Here doest dance the autumn magic with seething colour settled by the wet air's chill arid smells of old wood burning to warm both heart and limb alike the world prepares for death in sleep a vibrant saturation upon each face does spill.
Here doest dance the winter magic all sounds is frozen cross the world's silence The rain falls in shards of perfect glass. Every citizen cower from the cold, counting every grain. They see the magic 'round them rage as it howls in enjoyment.
Here does dance the waking magic when all hard frozen hatred melts to a bitten spring the nightmare slumber's over as all look with kinder eyes upon the greens and blues so sorely missed when magic reminds it's subjects It Is King