A Love Poem
Did never all these things occur, perhaps, somehow
To do labour on the farm with the sweat of my brow
Did never in the long and fiery days of harvest time,
Laden with high sheaves on the wagon
Lift up my voice in rhyme
Did never wake across the blue
And quiet of your stream
O my love, were you indeed, or did I dream a dream?
I did think, for many times, I hold it in my hands,
Yet, just like grains of sand,
It slipped through my fingers.
I did ask, in many nights, I asked the Lord above,
Will you bestow enough luck on me
Just to find a lingering love?
I did hope you will be respected and admired
Be well, be loved and lead a happy life,
Marry only for love and delight.
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