Verses

I know exactly where you are, / and what you sigh, I know that too. / You trip at most that felling far. / The town’s as grand as I tale you.

History is of Love composed, / and She’s its magic few: / Belief required but a star, / while she exacted two…

Snow, outside you host your kin, / But what offence did bring my sin / That we can’t pair?