Come now
to the forest's spring
Running
wrinkling over the stones,
To where
lush and grassy furrows
Hide away
in curving boughs.
Then you
can run to my open arms,
Be held
once more in my embrace,
I'll
gently lift that veil of yours
To gaze
again upon your face.
And then
you can sit upon my knee,
We'll be
all alone, alone there,
While the
lime tree thrilled with rapture
Showers
blossoms on your hair.
Your
white brow with those golden curls
Will
slowly draw near to be kissed,
Yielding
as prey to my greedy mouth
Those
sweet, red, cherry lips . . .
We'll
dream only happy dreams
Echoed by
wind's song in the trees,
The
murmur of the lonely spring,
The
caressing touch of the gentle breeze.
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