My Lord as sweet as waking spring
As gentle as the breeze,
As joyful as the blackbird's song
That drifts amongst the trees.
My Lord as sweet as summer flowers
As warm as beams of gold,
As clear as crystal streams that flow
His wonders to behold.
My Lord as sweet as autumn hues
The robes he wears as fine,
A vision he so beautiful
My Saviour so divine.
My Lord as sweet as winter's snow
So pristine is his sight,
Unmarked, untainted, perfect he
A ray of holy light.
Andrew Blakemore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Verily, a lovely piece of similes