My love of her was but a dream,
a reflection, a sorry fake
of she I love, of all I dream,
the loveliest, who crushed the snake.
A mother fair, the purest spouse,
temple of he whose death has brought
such sweet relief, the dead has roused,
eternal life our savior wrought!
His mother fair, my Lady wise,
her rosy cheeks, radiant glow!
She is my help, she is my prize,
the Morning Star, Mystical Rose!
Her knight I am, her lowly serf.
My bended knee is on the turf.
radiant glow, really your poem, I like it. I invite you to red my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ah, but ivory is illegal and knights no longer scale towers. Still well placed. Read mine - Despair - Adeline