The Verdant Vale

The roses of white have deceased...

So dost mine old ardor.
Shall they be buried,
Under that verdant fields of the Vale,
While I assembled the blossoming bliss of yesterday's Sunset?

Ah, a cluster of daisies with a hint of bluebells...
To whom?! To whom I shall devote the autumn rain of hope?
Along with the Nutrient of mine affection?

Alas, the bliss of that sweet touch of thy glance,
Through... the lustrous lenses!
Blistering glances!
Enough! Enough to have mine bosom melted!
Let a dream it be, alas, should this be all in vain!?