Were I a cloud I’d gather My skirts up in the air, And fly well know whither, And rest I well know where.
Were I a cloud I’d gather My skirts up in the air, And fly well know whither, And rest I well know where.
I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I’d see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.
My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night.
So sweet love seemed that April morn. When first we kissed beside the thorn, So strangely sweet, it was not strange We thought that love could never change.
Beauty, the eternal Spouse of the Wisdom of God and Angel of his Presence thru’ all creation.
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