Spring cometh too soon
As maidens and lads
Cast their warm love to each other,
As a flat pebble skims the waters,
When thrown with utmost grace.

I speaketh in kindly light
For those that have shed
Many a ground out teeth
Where even bread
Becomes too hard
To eat

Giveth to me
a drop of warm
Sweetened milk,
That floweth
The land of abundance
And
I’ll sup with you
To traverse with the joy
And
Beautiful love you portray
On this ordained summers eve.

I will play the flute
And
Perhaps string a harp
Like great Nero always did

Oh the young Bard
Does use thy words
To compose a poetic prelude
That shall warm thy heart,
And
Of those who have loved
Like Loved