O Rosalind, wilt thou be mine fore’er
And be taken unto me in marriage?
For I would take you here or there or there
In the splendour of a crimson carriage.
Would you let me near your beautious breast
Or carress your side beneath feathered sheets?
My dream is to sense your heart ‘neath your chest
And in turn pull you close till hearts do meet.
Would it that I lose you I should fear death
For the exile of you should fatal prove;
Instead I would regard your ev’ry breath
And take you ‘neath the calls of turtle doves.
If thou choos’t me and take me as your own
I’d make it so you were never alone.