THE MEADOWS
The cool wine cellar, furnished with your sighs,
Shall leave us drunk and dreaming
In the summerhouse at night.
After our kisses, our loving hearts beaming,
Into the gold-tinted meadows, alight
With daisies, grass and fireflies
We shall go, hand in hand,
Among the radiant and grand
Warm, scented, southern gales.
We shall rove like poets on the dales,
And refraining from all thought,
We shall glide among the rose-colored vales,
On the boundless fields by the rising ocean,
Immersed in naught
But love and emotion.
~ John Lars Zwerenz
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