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Yorkshire Tea

I’ve never been to land where roses bloom

As white as mountain snow in Yorkshire Dales.

I’ve never seen the home of singers, whom

I praise as minstrels of forgotten tales.


Thou art for me a harsh and unknown land

Where wind and rain unite in swirling dance

O Yorkshire, I am thy long-distance friend,

Adoring spirit of the Northern plains.


But when the continental winter threatens me,

I breathe thy greetings from a steamy cup.

It’s filled with balmy fragrance of the tea

That cures my heart from spleen and warms me up.


No honey and no sugar do I need

Because the drink of gods is always sweet.


2020

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Lancelot

Поэт, романтик, эстет. Живу в Праге. Основатель и председатель творческого сообщества Dark Romantic Club. Веду YouTube-канал "Прокачай рифмы!", …

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