Sun, Feb 24th - 3:27AM
True Love
An Irish Lady
Away across a continent, and then across the sea, There is a soul in Dublin town, who scarcely thinks of me. Her beauty is remarkable, but much deeper than her skin, There dwells a gracious woman, that I would love to win.
I would not have her love me for the wealth I might possess. I would not have her want me for my strength, more or less. My love for her is like an eagle, that soars to heights unknown. I cannot tell the boundaries, or distance it has flown.
But I am just a poor man, whose hopes and dreams are weak. And she’s a graceful lady, whose heart is truly meek. My hands are rough and dirty, from work so long and hard, Her eyes are pools of loveliness that catch me off my guard.
A look from her sweet countenance does bring me to my knees, I am inspired to conquer realms, and battle on the seas. Are there yet dragons for me to slay and with adversaries meet, I’ll make a trophy of their heads and lay it at her feet.
If only I could speak with her, this Irish lady fair, And see her face to face some day, although I know not where. The distance now between us, though far and many a mile, I’d glad’ traverse, o’er land and sea, to see her gentle smile.
A princess in a tower, a queen upon her throne, Her nobleness commands respect, and beckons come alone. But I am just a common man, not worthy of her love, My prayer ascends and waits to hear an answer from above.
Who [is] she [that] looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, [and] terrible as [an army] with banners? Song of Solomon 6:10
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