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By Gwendoline Morgan Submitted by Gwendoline Date: 2002 Mar 05 Comment on this Work [[2002.03.05.08.37.21795]] |
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The sun did gild the soft white veil, My budding boughs to lace; Though thorn and briar encircled me, I saw thee glimpse my face. Thou oft approached th'encloséd bower And oft withdrew in vain, My subtle scent my only joy, My thicket all thy pain. Before my full, unfurléd bloom Thou kneltst with power benign; High-hearted hadst thou passage won: My heart was always thine. My leaves bowed down to thee enfold, Thy sword thou touch'dst to me: 'Tis purest love and sweetest pain To die - and live for thee. Gwendoline Morgan |