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She’s swaddled in her cradle
Like the moon ensconced in the sky
In veils of immaculate rays
Fledges the babe in a pristine billow
The day in nightly webs beclouds
As tho’ pains would ever persist
Yet, brighter shall the morn be
Dawning gladly in a bridal stride
For a spring of beauty is nigh
Unfolding forth from forms’ tide
With beaming olive twig to bloom
And garland of gold and scepter
Such it is, the majestic march
Of the fairest of maiden of earth
Lo, she comes with love and life
And would be the mother of man
So, spare the queen yet in the womb
Lest the kingdom be gone too soon
And our flag furled, bent in shame
To hoist o’er humanity’s doom dirges
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Ositadimma Amakeze
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