The Bard Of Avon Lives To Tell A Tale Poem by Terri Turrell

Were I so blushed as like new blossomed rose
And dew fresh yet upon each velvet cheek
Lord William would be mine were I but clothed
In jeweled garbardine and silken leaf

Would I, a fetching lass in blooming gown
Entice yon poet's company this eve
I'd wager once adorned by thorny crown
'Is Lord would have me plucked 'ere morning breathe

Alas - I fear I'm ought but lowely maid
My wimple swaying with the gentle breeze
The Bard of Avon lives to tell a tale
(Well, p'raps, not quite..for I am but a tease)

And I no unkissed rose in blushed recoil
Yon Bard would find I bloom in fertile soil

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