Tall and Fair
Amid the field is a haunted well;
a soul can hear soft voices rising,
comely gentle, singing or advising;
and some mysterious calls to spell.
A maid cared to reflect her face,
twas many years back, so her song,
became a murmur to only prolong,
a desire of hers in depths to trace.
A well, some say, keeps the beauty
when poetic words define truelove,
as it is the maid's render of above,
but never fiddle with spells snooty.
She lifts, some say, your soul in air,
together you fly where pure ethers
wreak or shimmer in Spring anthers,
amid daisies to stand, tall and fair.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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