A Nightingale In Thee
A NIGHTINGALE IN THEE
Its most wondrous right how
thee speaketh to mine own heart,
without declaring a word,
thee did touch mine own heart,
and dumb mine own fledgling soul.
The memo in thy smileth,
deliv’rs right,
what to beest in loveth with thee,
to loveth thee,
very much means.
Am I dreaming?
‘r else am mining?
Thou art mine own loveth
Am thy doveth.
Mine own empress,
am thy highness.
Am bethinking,
our palace,
shall beest by the side
and standeth in solace
by side
of the Lord’s house .
A dead sir can waketh up to spy on our story.
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