This is a spray the Bird clung to,
Giving rise to its blossom with pleasure,
Ere the high tree-top, she sprung to,
Fit for her nest and her treasure
O, what a hope beyond measure
Was the low spray’s, which the flying feet hung to,—
So to be singled out, built-in, and sung to!
This is a heart the Queen leant on,
Thrilled in a minute erratic,
Ere the faithful bosom, she bent on,
Meet for love’s regal dalmatic
O, what a fancy ecstatic
Was the poor heart’s, ere the wanderer went on—
Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on!
Don’t say things you don’t mean.
Wisdom
Truly loving means
Letting go
Free that soul
✨
Love doesn’t
wear chains
✨
Wisdom ✨ Kindness
