My English Rose

Kevin Michael Bloor

Oh! England, I will love you still

Despite your bitter, winter chill

Though home of cretin, clown and churl

You are the land that grew my girl!

 

And I’d not move down sunny south

Nor crave the kisses from a mouth

With Latin lips, who’s darkly donned

A beauty, second-rate to blonde

 

On sun-kissed shores, where maidens sweet

Tread softly with their dainty feet

No goddess Greek could thrill me so

Like English Rose I’ve come to know

 

In England’s green and pleasant place

From such a rare, romantic race

My love was raised like rustic rose

An angel, from her head to toes!

 

Oh! England, I do love you still

And I will never get my fill

Of praising you each dismal day

For girl of gold you grew in grey

  • Author: Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 9th, 2018 07:42
  • Comment from author about the poem: For my beautiful English Rose
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 191
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Comments +

Comments2

  • Debsspot

    How sweet and romantic. A very lucky lady.

  • Goldfinch60

    Good loving write.



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