On St. Valentine’s Day

On St.Valentine’s day, who is that who goes singing her songs, Humming and whistling away And the wind carrying the tunings of those melodies? It is my love, my love, which I want to say you about, It is my dream that I have seen. On St. valentine’s day, I do not know it, nor can I say it to you, Why does the heart of mine get hurt and wounded? Why does the bleeding start it again And it is my love which recreate I, It is my love which calls it, do you eel about? . On St. Valentine’s day, stand I with the roses to be given to, But strangely enough she is not here to take to, She has now passed out of sight And it is not visible where she is, As she is not here to be found again. I waited for her, she waited for me, I under the chill of the lonely nights Misty, cold and starry When the fair and fine moon was shining up above And the bats flying around, hanging by and re-flying, Circling and circling again, The owls big and bulging meditating, But society as a barrier perhaps stood it in between, As I understand it now. Wrapping the wrapper, she passed out of sight, Vanishing into the mist and fog of the chilly nights And the harsh cold winds lashed too then And her passing, vanishing out of sight, I could not trace it, As kept I losing sight of, Shrouded in mystery. Just the morning dews on the rose-petals indicated it How sad would she have been, How much sad, lonely and broken And how hard the heart of conservative man! How the heart fanatical! Just I kept guessing and guessing about her, O, my love! O, St.Valentine, my red and red roses for You, Lord! It’s Your day, not mine, A day for my tributes and homage to You, Lord!