By glance upon the emerald dale
a laird rides 'pon the crest
Grasping in his calloused hand
a Faerie Maiden's tress.
One tress for infinity,
two cut for grace divine.
Three tresses for the Trinity,
and four for wealth of time.
Five beats of a Sparrow's wing,
Gets six maidens pon your perch.
Seven for good luck in life,
Eight for endless mirth.
The pompous laird rode proudly on,
Unwary of a Siren's song.
She led him to the river's edge,
And scalped him come the breaking dawn.
silvery tresses of moonlight cascaded
down upon the palm tree lined shore
where young couples slowly strolled
taking in the night's ambiance
tarrying on the sea air
an affection wave
played with joy
deep with kissing easy trees Spring
wells like blood between the imminent
corpse of day where pennyeyed kittens
and ladybugs mingle with the deliberate
breath of the earth a flower meagerly strives
fragile homely limp and flush Spring languishes
an instant collected warmly into the salient brush
of breasts tingling abruptly pricking a loose cotton
with marble hard nipples round rosey cheecked apple
blossoms in Spring hang briefly like youth without youth
Spring i draw your quivering uglywonderful mouth to my
mouth and creep into your winsome shrill maw my blood
This Band, which bound thy yellow hair
Is mine, sweet girl! thy pledge of love;
It claims my warmest, dearest care,
Like relics left of saints above.
Oh! I will wear it next my heart;
’Twill bind my soul in bonds to thee:
From me again ’twill ne’er depart,
But mingle in the grave with me.
The dew I gather from thy lip
Is not so dear to me as this;
That I but for a moment sip,
And banquet on a transient bliss:
This will recall each youthful scene,
E’en when our lives are on the wane;
The leaves of Love will still be green
When Memory bids them bud again.
Nay but you, who do not love her,
Is she not pure gold, my mistress?
Holds earth aught—speak truth—above her?
Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,
And this last fairest tress of all,
So fair, see, ere I let it fall?
Because, you spend your lives in praising;
To praise, you search the wide world over:
Then why not witness, calmly gazing,
If earth holds aught—speak truth—above her?
Above this tress, and this, I touch
But cannot praise, I love so much!