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Click hereA royal moth sat on my evening door,
With wings of ermine and a mane of white -
Upright and stately like a king of yore,
Its bearing worth a monarch of the night.
I looked some time and then switched off the light
And thought I wouldn't see it any more
To find next day the end of its last flight:
A dirty smudge upon my morning floor.
...and pretty gruesome! How unexpected a twist at the end! Did that poor creature batter itself to death, then get stepped on? Nicely handled!