A spring of buttercups, when was that now I saw in green pastures a golden jersey cow A river meandering swift-lashing and lush Where blue tit nest on passing, fell hush.
“When will you adopt my heart? Like a child in its cradle. I am like a green flower plucked”. Drying on an evening’s vigil: “My soul is teething for your love,
I’m going to roll-out, drum rolls, In your heart tonight! It’s going to feel - like thunder Without; any respite. It’s going to feel like snow-fall Drifting over your soul,
