Gift Of A Yellow Rose

A tale of love

By a gossamer on a window sill,
I see sundry hummingbirds flutter,
Across the edge of a winding hill, 
Beyond ladybirds near a shutter.

Amidst the guise of a brisk meadow,
Shad'd by the bow of the still trees,
Before the vim and verve of yellow,  
As branches rustle with the breeze.    

The birr of the waters of a stream,
Flows soothingly onto a near bank,
Where the guises of the does gleam,
And stand thither too weary and lank.

I follow the winds leading me onward,
Onto the stirring waterfall that gushes,
As water sparkles bright and outward,
Reaching the shallow ford that rushes. 

Through the narrow cleft of the rocks,
A wondrous shine of the sun glistens,
Upon the drooping and willowy stalks,
Whilst a prying owl stares and listens.

My eyes have seen the wonders of life,
With the smell of the blossoming flowers,
When the hazelnuts are spread thus rife,
Within the sprinkle of morning showers.  

A yearning lea is now fain and winsome,
With a rain that drenches the lush grass,
That should grow to be tall and lissome,
Above a wet earth where abides my lass.

Cleave to the gift of a yellow rose my love,
And come thee hither upon the lovely hue,
That spreads with the new rainbow above,
Gladdening the sky with heartsome blue.