Charles Villiers Stanford
2 voix · Voice, Piano
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I liken my love to a gossamer Afloat in 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; Oh may she peacefully nestle there, For ever mine!
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