Is beauty an art or so it should be,
For you shan't pull me away from your eyes,
But I know holding you,
You will always be true,
And you will fall in my arms with a sigh.
Your beauty, my love, is much to behold,
And 'tis quite hard to put it to words,
But if, my love
is inside. Like a dove
It will anxiously want to get free and heard.
Then let it get free and let it get heard,
For I don't love as moch as you.
And holding you close,
It feels that you host,
That you're hosting a dove like me two.
'Tis too far away for words to collect
the dew drops of love will endure.
The love that we seek,
It might not the week,
I embrace while it does I'll make sure.
And let alll be merry and happy and gay
For these two lovers' wed day draws near.
The day is all planed,
There's a good band,
And wine and I'm sure plenty of beer.
But as it draws, there is death crushes hope.
For the lady is on her way up.
The torment and pain,
It's not easy to strain,
But he's doing every thing; isn't enough.
But I fear not dispair that hurts us most,
But the hope that she will come back.
That's not posability,
For you see the recurrencey
Of these things do not take the sack.
So sad was the tale of these two lovers by,
That happens for more than we know.
It will happen again
and again and again,
But 'till then we will keep our heads low.
