O’ Pilidod Grass, Spread ‘pon the Breadth of the Mountain Valleys

O’ pilidod grass, spread ‘pon the breadth of the mountain valleys

Where my lover waits for me in robes of silken thread,

Garbed, spread across her shoulder of creme, to ivory neck.

There she dances ‘pon the fields where the foals give their turns

And the calves give hearty suck upon their mother’s teats.

The shepherds gaze upon the herds, where my lover in

Bonny feeds the lilies with nectar of nearby streams.

 

The singing of the mountain songs, in Hoar English fill

The caverns with their echoes of love songs for we two

Who by the roads and the valleys search all day and night.

Suitors come and go, as she hopes on me, and I her.

The most beautiful among the maidens comes nigh me

Yet my dove, darling of my valleys and hopes do sing

I reject promises of women who do love me not.

The mountains sing their songs to bring us nigh one another,

As the gulls in piridod coasts sing their hymns to us

Where the shepherds nigh the fields do tend their woolen sheep.

Establish her waiting, oh LORD, LORD of Sabbaoth.

 

 

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