Bride of the Morning
Bride of the morning I await your larking voice
Like nightingale's solace, or balm of woodland dove
A new year has began and how my heart rejoice
The coming hour when we alone the starry curtains shield
Cuddled in dew's sweet blanket, each breast a pillow yield
And every wave shall whisper the tenderness of love
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2011
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