The Longing Lass
I wish I were in valley far
Where heat and sand lie
Deep, for there lies down
My true love’s heart, in sun
And shroud to sleep
And when the trumpet hails
Good men, and horse from
Golden hay; it’s then that
We will meet again and
Frolic in the bay
I wish upon a heart so broke
And through an eye so teared,
That whispers when the friendly
Wind, pass in the valley feared
And in this place he left for good
Not mention hurt or pain, for true
I know when trumpet sounds
He’ll lead my horse again
Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2016
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