MY LADY
I am taken in my reverie to a wondrous air,
Where a lady passes, by a summery cove,
In the warm afternoon, where breezes rove,
Over the dune, releasing wine upon her hair.
Free of thought, she wanders through bowers,
Bathing in florid rainbows which send
Her longings to where the lindens bend,
By the redolent sea, amid the flowers.
She is clad in a nightgown of white,
Lost in a vale of soft, tender sunlight,
As her feet grace the path by the ocean.
She ponders on only emotion,
As the billows rise and fall,
And my dream is not a dream at all.
John Zwerenz
I am taken in my reverie to a wondrous air,
Where a lady passes, by a summery cove,
In the warm afternoon, where breezes rove,
Over the dune, releasing wine upon her hair.
Free of thought, she wanders through bowers,
Bathing in florid rainbows which send
Her longings to where the lindens bend,
By the redolent sea, amid the flowers.
She is clad in a nightgown of white,
Lost in a vale of soft, tender sunlight,
As her feet grace the path by the ocean.
She ponders on only emotion,
As the billows rise and fall,
And my dream is not a dream at all.
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