I liken my love to a gossamer Afloat on the summer air, And wish that I were the west wind, Her form on my wings to bear; She is so daintily delicate, So pure, so rare. I liken my love to a butterfly By a bower of roses flown, The flowers my fellows are sleeping, And I am awake alone; I open my petals to welcome her To her fairy throne. I liken my love to a hundred things In the realm of fancy fine, Wherein I follow and woo her In the core of my heart to twine; O may she peacefully nestle there, For ever mine.
- by Harold Boulton, Sir (1859 - 1935) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
Researcher for this text: Ted Perry
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 108