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The Elder Bush

The elder bush, the elder bush
bloomed in the month of May;
among its twigs a little bird
had sung its song of love each day.

The elder bush, the elder bush
beneath which we found our bliss;
we truly were the happiest,
till something went amiss.

The elder bush, the elder bush
where we exchanged sweet words of love,
has grown into a tall tree;
a little bird still sings above.

The elder bush, the elder bush;
Oh, be still you restless heart,
for I rue that certain day
on which she did depart.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Last few words: 
Grace, this poem you had commented on, but somehow I lost everything due to a glitch at my end.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


what starts out as a splendid and tender love poem evolves into loss and regret. bitter-sweet memories portrayed in excellence! you just keep getting better and better!

*hugs, Cat

When you fling poo, some of the stink sticks to you!

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:

yeah, once in a great while the Muse will favor me with lines that make it all worthwhile. Thanks, sweetie. Jerry

>Please visit my website:

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