A VALENTINE
My songs should be as lilies fair,And roses made of crimson light,To lie amid the fragrant hairAnd on the breast of my delight.Such glory is for them too high;I’ll scatter them adown the street,And when my love is passing byThey will rise up and kiss her feet.
My songs should be as lilies fair,And roses made of crimson light,To lie amid the fragrant hairAnd on the breast of my delight.Such glory is for them too high;I’ll scatter them adown the street,And when my love is passing byThey will rise up and kiss her feet.
My songs should be as lilies fair,And roses made of crimson light,To lie amid the fragrant hairAnd on the breast of my delight.
My songs should be as lilies fair,
And roses made of crimson light,
To lie amid the fragrant hair
And on the breast of my delight.
Such glory is for them too high;I’ll scatter them adown the street,And when my love is passing byThey will rise up and kiss her feet.
Such glory is for them too high;
I’ll scatter them adown the street,
And when my love is passing by
They will rise up and kiss her feet.