John Lars Zwerenz
Love the heart of all romance,
Must be of the sacred, laughing brook,
It must be of the eternal dance.
It must of her sable, dark look,
And of mine returning purity for purity.
Romance is love and love is romance.
It is of the azure, gleaming stream,
It is glory beyond all ecstasy.
It transcends all pines, all wines, all loftiness,
It is not a fabled, windy dream.
And when one is immersed in its ineffable caress,
When diamonds are donning her wedding dress,
The sun and the stars rise merely to greet
Yet another height where lips do meet.
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