Soft steals the morning mist that hides the glimmering dawn
Whispers quiet greetings to those forlorn
That beckon in silence upon the dappled lawn
Of those lost within that fragrant morn...........

Seek ye not, in morning dawning
Hearts a burning, stirring, turning.
There is beauty heaving, weaving,
Nature and her maids adorning.

Come. Sing, for thy knows the songs of yore
The ancient melodies of joy and mellow song
That echo from a distant time
And make one think in ancient rhyme..

Hearken to that learned sage locked within a literal cage
Of thoughts. Of slendour and desire that inflamed the inner fire
Come, come upon the stage of dreams and life; dare you to be
Loved? For in that love there is loss. And gain. And magic in the night.

And in that magic, gentle weaved; with kisses silent, passions cleaved
Love comes silent; boldly, bravely, smashes logic wildly, safely.
Do we cling with eyes wide open lest she fly? Oh flee she may not.
Or I should die.