Garden Grave.

Floral limbs paint pictures in these woods,
Overlooking the garden where evening now hangs it's hood.
Dwelling among the stones where we used to sit,
Longing and loving,  I shall not forget!
And I'll always remember where your impure heart may lie.
Where the loveliest did bloom, and where the blooms did die!

We took this path once when it was green and blue.
We counted the flowers and beheald this picturesque view.
We also walked around my favorite tree, so tall and so old.
It still flourishes over the weeds, truth be told!
And I'll still remember where your impure heart my lie.
Where the loveliest did bloom, and where the blooms did die!

The ivy hangs itself around these gates so artful.
A dove slipped a vine around it's neck ever so mournful.
And I wish I could have stopped it and made it wait for the sun
To shimmer about this garden tomb to make these curses come undone.
But I'll always remember where your impure heart may lie.
Where the loveliest did bloom, and where the blooms did die!