Wildrose
Beside the beautiful Loch,This ancient flower grows,
She dances among the roses,
Which the lass had named,
Her eyes fill with joy,
As she watches the maiden's graceful steps,
Careful where they go,
She does not bend neither bladed grass nor flower stem.
Early, the morning sun rises,
Shedding its light upon the olden tree,
Going beyond the moss-covered castle,
Lighting up the mystic mist that never ceases.
Falling from the skies for thee,
Blood-tinted rose petals that never flee.
From the cry of the Kestrel,
To the mysterious song of the Wolf,
She knows the precious jewel maidens love,
The sacred keepsake that is the Rose.
A neveraging gift of the Fairies and Elves.
The flower fairy queen,
Dancing among her royal subjects,
With beauty and grace that none can excel.
Her song, they will forever sing to the forest,
Of dewdrop wine and ancient kind.
Of the beauteous gift that was her best,
This tale they will mind.
Of a graceful fairy flower queen,
Who is named...
Wildrose!
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