[Editor: This poem by William Blocksidge (also known as William Baylebridge) was published in Songs o’ the South (1908).]
I Love the Roses Red
I love the roses red,
With scented breath that blow;
But, though I love the roses red,
None like thy lips I know!
I love the lilies fair,
With stately grace that grow;
But O, what charms beyond compare
Thy form, my Love, can show!
I love the stars that shine
Above in heaven’s blue;
But O, my Love, those eyes of thine
More tender seem and true!
I love the gentle breeze,
That softly sings to me
The sweetest of sweet melodies;
For, Love, it tells of thee.
Source:
William Blocksidge, Songs o’ the South, London: Watts, 1908, p. 87
Editor’s notes:
thee = (archaic) you
thine = (archaic) your; yours
thy = (archaic) your
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