Celtic Love
M
Melvina Germain
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Celtic Love
And soon here thy thunder sing,
a heart print ne’re you feel or sow.
Thine daggers pierce beneath thy flesh,
shall bear the war note of thrice a king.
O my fair Alba Prince come forth,
I be not vexed nor be your foe.
My love wilt line in Albyn’s Hills,
whilst Celtic writers pen their woes.
O hear me, my silver headed prize.
Dance o’re the silken green so pale.
Cast not a spell nor capture a smile,
Unveil thy palinode and see thee rise.
Written by: Melvina Germain
Date: June 22/2013
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