On noble plains of grandeur swept,
knee high grasses whose waves have kept
a softened motion ‘neath mountain spires,
perched through tree line midst God’s fire,
is where this love of ours belongs…
In alpine meadow’s fragrant blush
that sets the woods and stream to hush,
where skies transform the azure, gold,
into relief’s eternal fold
of mountain ranges long –
is there where best our love makes song.
For you, my love, have granted
such pleasures sweet this heart of mine,
and in my soul have planted
truth of love and friendship, kind,
that only nature’s wild can dress
the setting honest, when by it, blessed
our lives move on, as one in bliss
of true love’s nature and true love’s kiss.




















