A Song of Spring

Come stroll with me thou sprightly lass;
Why should one’s youth too quickly pass?
‘twould be a sin to spend our days
Without each other’s tender gaze.

’tis said that idle minds will stray
If one forgets he’s made of clay;
Are houses built with folded hands,
Or battles won in distant lands,

Without the effort of a few
That choose to do what they must do?
It’s clear that love is not for fools
Who sit and dream of finding jewels

Among some lonely distant isle.
These words I say contain no guile,
Yet I must ownl that I have naught
Those golden rings from Holland brought,

Or stately ships with mighty men
That sail the seas and back again;
Nor do I own a large estate
With marble walls and golden gate.

My love is all that I can give;
This empty soul in which I live
Awaits your lovely, lively form:
Please say the word and calm the storm.

Copyright ©1985 Joseph G. Merrell III

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