Where once her warm and sanguine heart

fell ashen grey to rest in cold base dirt

high over the familiar bush and shrub

proud crimson blooms pine for love  

 

Where their sacred beauty sings to my heart

they call forth the lovely nightingale

high in their cloudless summer sky

to sweetly sing their longing song

 

There, I too confess a secret yearning

silent hidden deep within my soul

quiet descant to that thrushy bird

for sweet love's ambrosial balm