John Lars Zwerenz

(1-5-69 / Kew Gardens, New York, USA)

The Garden


THE GARDEN

In the golden tuft of the morning flower,
In the delicacy of spring, in the fragrant hour,
When green boughs sing in the florid bower,
We shall wander by the yew trees,
By the rolling, blue stream,
And inhale the many symphonies
Which lead us to dream
Of a wedding in the sun,
Where we, as lovers, hand in hand,
Shall become evermore as one
As a mystic rose,
Within the glistening garden-close.
A sanctified and sacred band,
United beneath a canopy of lights
Shall take us to where rare candlelights
Are lit in the borders of the bright enclosure.
Beneath paradisial heights
Where our ardor is secure,
We shall fathom our eternal bond
Amid the lilacs of the azure square,
And I shall kiss your lips and roving hair,
Glimpsing realms beyond
That garden there.

John Lars Zwerenz

Submitted: Wednesday, July 09, 2014

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