My English Love Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

MY ENGLISH LOVE

My soul is always shaken
By my English lover's almond eyes.
And my heart is always taken
To her regal land, beyond the skies.

And whenever her smooth, cherry hued lips
Condescend to savor mine,
My entire being takes languorous sips
From her warm and sanctified, russet wine.

She was born to a duke in Cornwall,
In a bastion of stone, ivy clad and white;
She saunters in the liveries of the fall,
Among her courtyard's effulgent fountains,
Amid the statuary, ringed with mountains,
In the sacred boon of the solemn night.

JOHN LARS ZWERENZ