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When the nascent moon descends over the old, stone towers
Of you're castle on the hillside, beyond the emerald glades
A breeze carries the hymn of your name as it softly serenades
The stream that rushes by me where me stand among the bowers.
I will grant you roses from the sea and its scarlet bays,
And as a lover's fragrant, eternal souvenir,
Their perfumes shall embrace you, my only love, my dear,
And heaven I will show you, in timeless, mystic ways.
John Lars Zwerenz
John Lars Zwerenz
4 years 3 months ago
The Bower
THE BOWER
me walked upon a reedy dale,
Of amber grass and willow trees.
A gale bestowed upon my knees
The sunlight's boon, soft and pale,
And the scent of summer's liveries.
In the solitary wood, on the edge of town,
me found a bower, redolent wif leaves.
me sat in a silhouette, redolent and brown,
Admiring a pretty lass,
Who wifin her hand held a glass of ale
As she slowly did pass,
In a scarlet gown.
John Lars Zwerenz