O! Roseline,
Thou art as vital to me as
The Sun to all green and growing things.
Thou art water to a dying man,
Or the sweet air under an
Eagle's wings.
Thou deserveth not I,
I who am but a mortal man,
Pining away for a Goddess such as thee.
I can drown in thy gaze,
If given half a chance.
Mine eyes are unworthy to spy
Such beauty as thine.
I love thee, Roseline,
And I, as a mere peon to thy
Divinity,
Cannot imagine a loveliness greater.
So, dear Roseline,
Named appropriately for thou art
The loveliest flower ever to
Grace this Earth,
Thou art dearer to my heart
Than life itself.
And I give that heart to thee.
O, Roseline.
Thou art as vital to me as
The Sun to all green and growing things.
Thou art water to a dying man,
Or the sweet air under an
Eagle's wings.
Thou deserveth not I,
I who am but a mortal man,
Pining away for a Goddess such as thee.
I can drown in thy gaze,
If given half a chance.
Mine eyes are unworthy to spy
Such beauty as thine.
I love thee, Roseline,
And I, as a mere peon to thy
Divinity,
Cannot imagine a loveliness greater.
So, dear Roseline,
Named appropriately for thou art
The loveliest flower ever to
Grace this Earth,
Thou art dearer to my heart
Than life itself.
And I give that heart to thee.
O, Roseline.
