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"Over dews, over sands,
Will I fly, for your weal:
Your holy delicate white hands
Shall girdle me with steel. At home, in your emerald bowers, From morning's dawn till e'en, You'll pray for me, my flower of flowers, My Dark Rosaleen! My fond Rosaleen! You'll think of me through daylight hours, My virgin flower, my flower of flowers, My Dark Rosaleen! I could scale the blue air, I could plough the high hills, O, I could kneel all night in prayer, To heal your many ills! And one beamy smile from you Would float like light between My toils and me, my own, my true, My Dark Rosaleen! My fond Rosaleen! Would give me life and soul anew, A second life, a soul anew, My Dark Rosaleen!" |
(Please read the cautions on About Personal Ads before responding to an advert. In particular, "Flat 51, 17 Holywell Hill, St Albans, AL1 1DT" is a mailbox address used by a persistent scam artist.)
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