Morning Aubade
Love me, love me not. Doves flew; kneeled.
Breaths of flaunting daisies yield.
Across the narrow Irish loch, a leaven
Bed of grassy emerald field;
Bequeath, abreast
the mountain crest,
Beneath daunting, darken gray of heaven.
Love me, Love me not, seven doves shield.
8/1/2019
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