What, if any, shall my love be if tho is not there in the meadow of our season? Shall it wilt as flowers do in the burning sun without thy water to sip into its roots? Shall we not meet by the tree in the meadow of our love? If it is not ordained, how so may it go forth, in the bloom of the day of our meadowed love seasoned?

I do miss thee when we are parted from us, in our meadows seasoned love.