The glistening furrow is all alive.
It is summer in the country,
And nature's teeming, glorious bounty
Is dressed with a dappled oak, and its golden, honeyed hive.
Mountains in the distance glow,
Where here and there a brook does flow,
Beneath the white-crested heights where the shimmering snow
Reflects the sunlight's rays to the gardens below.
I walk among the rosebush and the multicolored cloves,
In love with a duchess who resides in a tower;
Her mind is of the moonlight; she sighs above the bower,
Where the courtyard and the fountains bless her where she roves.
Her tresses are dark and long, and her countenance is profound,
Graced with a timeless beauty of a soft and poignant air
Which is wistful, tender, noble and fair.
And my heart is sent to rapture, engulfed by its mystic sound.
6-19-2012
John Zwerenz
It is summer in the country,
And nature's teeming, glorious bounty
Is dressed with a dappled oak, and its golden, honeyed hive.
Mountains in the distance glow,
Where here and there a brook does flow,
Beneath the white-crested heights where the shimmering snow
Reflects the sunlight's rays to the gardens below.
I walk among the rosebush and the multicolored cloves,
In love with a duchess who resides in a tower;
Her mind is of the moonlight; she sighs above the bower,
Where the courtyard and the fountains bless her where she roves.
Her tresses are dark and long, and her countenance is profound,
Graced with a timeless beauty of a soft and poignant air
Which is wistful, tender, noble and fair.
And my heart is sent to rapture, engulfed by its mystic sound.
6-19-2012
John Zwerenz
No comments:
Post a Comment