Prelude To a Misty Morning
Last night in the garden, I bent on one knee,
Proposed to my love and she agreed to marry me.
I picked a crimson rose and placed it in her hand,
the hand that would soon wear my wedding band.
Wettened by the mornings dew
Closely spaced where rows of roses grew
Footprints stained the cobblestone
Where my love and I had walked, alone
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