Comes the breaking of dawn...
'Tis much too soon, my darling
For you shall soon be gone;
The Lark 'tis surely lying to us-
How dare he herald in the morn?
Parting 'tis but bittersweet, my darling
Alas, a new sorrow, 'tis born;
Il n'est mie jors
Saverose au corps gent
Si me consent Dieus
L'aloete nos ment
It is not daylight
O sweet one with the gentle body
So God help me
The Lark lies to us
-Provencal. twelfth or thirteenth century
An Aubade is a Morning Song
By: Theodora Onken
November 5,2011>
Remembering Al and Paul Schmidt
And of course: David P.
Theodora (Theo) Onken
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-aubade/
