Diplomacy

From Immortal Poetry
Jump to: navigation, search

Tell your love where the roses
blow,
And the hearts of the lilies quiver,
Not in the city’s gleam and glow,
But down by a half-sunned river.
Not in the crowded ball-room’s glare,
That would be fatal, Marie, Marie,
How can she answer you then and there?
So come then and stroll with me,
my dear,
Down where the birds call, Marie,
Marie.

Personal tools
Categories
topics
poems by decade
seasons
users
Languages

Print
Printer friendly version

IPv6

Search:

Poetry index | Random poem | Author index | Norwegian version | Swedish version