It Opens Fair Poem by James McLain

That is of me and go now have trust of your eye.
Accomplishing this it stands times old style love is new.
My rose, your glove, your love of my rose, which is this last garden.
I cross my chest at the method of gloaming when comes Mary.
As for me, ' You think it in doubt; As for me, ' verily you say.
Those out of reach of this thorn must it be of you it is.
Never of someone else.
The power of the owner she is fair whether of;
Whom hears the bell it tolls to thee whom knew of it so well.
Thus it comes bursting forth,
and of you and you trust from you of this have they known, of me.
As for her the switch' which answers unto me like the air; Am I.
But as for one us as for us you must ask whether or not you shrink.
And of that we want the rose blooms do you to it opens fair.