A Blacksmith's Boy

THIS POEM IS NOT PRESENTED AS I INTENDED (ie. DOUBLE SPACED).

THIS HAS BEEN DONE BY PERSONS BEYOND MY CONTROL

THUS DIMINISHING THE READING EXPERIENCE.

🙈

One sunny springtime morning

I met her on a fair day.

I saw her from a distance

Out strolling on the fairway.

As like the springtime morning

She filled the air with joy...

She was a rose of England

And I a blacksmith's boy.

I heard that she was singing

As I maundered ever near;

The sweetest charming plainsong

Sent softly to my ear.

As like the springtime morning

She filled the air with joy...

She was a rose of England

And I a blacksmith's boy

She had the rarest countenance,

She had the fairest flowing hair;

She looked the grandest lady,

Ethereal beyond compare.

As like the springtime morning

She filled the air with joy...

She was a rose of England

And I a blacksmith's boy.

She was a rose of this fair land,

The flower of Saint George,

But I my master's vassal,

A servant of the forge.

So, like the springtime morning

She filled my heart with joy...

She, a rose of England

Whilst I, a blacksmith's boy.

                ASJ