My Love
Oh love, my love like a red rose
Which newly sprung in june,
Beloved smile like the melody
Which always played in tune.
I heard the song of the spring
And the old-bold chant of the sea
But your voice, hair and eye's
Are the loveliest things to me.
Come on live with me my love
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Where I make a bed of roses
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks.
Copyright © Chittaranjan Dey | Year Posted 2012
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