Classic Poem

It is love
Theres a mildness i' the air
The fields are green and fair
And sunbeams there
From above
There is singing o birds
There is bleating o' herds
Waters waving like curds
What is love
But the landscapes o' spring sunny green o' the grove
And the maid walking there Mary Dove.

Is it love
To admire what God's sending
Charm on charm never ending
Ever varying unspending
Look above
Clouds rocks rough and ragged
Temples unhewed and jagged
Where currish man never begged
What is love
But nature and truth over ocean and grove
And that first boyish charm Mary Dove.

It is love
While grass remains green
Mary Dove
And clouds sail in heaven above
And flowers come wi' spring you'll be love
Mary Dove
Burnet buttons growed dark in that hour
Purpled Fetch dangled on the thorn bower
And each little weed had a flower but love
In that little meadow like joys from above
Walks the poets young fancy the sweet Mary Dove.