Angel Drome

There's a moonbeam on the rosemary bloom
And another in my raspberry wine
Declaring all things midnight are divine
More impressively than a sonic boom
Converted somehow into moonrise gold
To prove nature, with cratered satellites,
Is more glorious than loud missile flights
Wherever mass warfare is bought and sold
Among the savages not asking why
Some folks must hate another people so
When paragon beauty orbits on high
With the nonpareil heavenly glow
Of a bright goddess with a golden eye
Illuminating all our fears below,
And with that gold illuminati spy...
An angelic treasury of moonbeam flow!