My Love can be as gentle as the rain, Or she can be as windy as the storm. She can be as bright as the sun, Or she can be the moon, dimly reborn. My Darling is as the tree, Graceful, swaying to and fro, And she is as the grass, Softly going where none will go. My heart's Beat is like the dew, Ever softly approaching the morn, But she is also like the earth, Sometimes lonely, and forlorn. I know but one thing, my Dear, That my heart is in your hands. Do with it what you will, my Rose, It is as your conquered land.
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