If the mornings breath e'er but takes you away I shall linger in the sullen fields and my voice shall graze the scarlet hues that scratches upon the Dawn.
In that moment of disarray This heart will fear its trembling beat and all that once was warm, tender shall cross this form in Icy hues and frozen to all thought and form shall linger e'er to die.
If in the days caressing form the Sun shall no hold no light and darkness to the weary Soul shall be the guiding life, No summer breeze nor crystal lake No Flower in beauty arrayed Would awaken that moments Joy when within these arms you Laid.
The seagull's cry shall haunt my days to the sadness that life befalls the glory of the youthful times when in love -Aye! It Grows. Capture a picture, save the Soul for those bitter days that shall fall A lover's lament, the passing Tide When ones love, to the Leal is gone.