Shy Green

Stormy seas, by the winding fear,
calmly standing in a shy green,
My heart in hope to set a clear,
gazing about a peaceful scene.
Miracles happen so it's seen,
but none to a beauty I know,
tranquil, alone, battling off the snow.

My sighs, that which all I could give,
a tear, a caress, or a thought,
But would my gentle one just forgive,
a wretch like me, happy in distraught?
By this grand asylum, I'm caught,
and the blooming shy abounds me,
when all that I dreamt of, not to be.

Charming in loneliness set,
what a rose had an ill such luck?
Take my palm and never get wet,
and thy green, may never get a pluck.
Thus, when the nightmares are struck,
my heart shall keep you by finesse
then on that headstone, chant me a bless.