rhythm of passion
In the greens nigh a lumbering river,With a slugish wind creeping its quiet water,
I saw two coming from afar,
Twisting and letting their bodies fly,
The highs of the summer skies,
The seed of love in their eyes.
Their bodies danced a rhythm of passion,
And vapor a dove of love and compassion,
Hatched and fly the highs of the summer skiy,
By the hands of weaverbird's song,
That flapped and danced the river side,
Pushing to roll its sleeping waters.
Sweet, sweet, hearts of passion,
Ypur melody wets the heavens with compassion,
And brings down her tears like rain,
That wipes from every stain,
And rescue even those scaly lands,
That suffer from bushy hands.
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