Sonnet 4 (Me Bonny Lass Is Like The Red Flower) Poem by Arnav Penrhythm

Me bonny lass is like the red flower
Who smells of love and enchanting hue
That eglantines can ne’er doth shower
Essence! E’en the violets that grew
Art she warmth, the heart that which doth crave
When loneliness heavy breathes upon
The wreathe of gay – memories on grave
And the sunrise of a life new morn
The garden she adorns of virgin love
Deflower to mate in serried stand
Where I too stand, her heart to move
But not thru laud; or writ to thee send
Love me heart, only feel thoust for me
If feel not thou – then what can love be…..