Anna-Marie, Love, Up Is The Sun
Anna-Marie, love, up is the sun, Anna-Marie, love, morn is begun, Mists are dispersing, love, birds singing free, Up in the morning, love, Anna-Marie. Anna-Marie, love, up in the morn, The hunter is winding blithe sounds on his horn, The echo rings merry from rock and from tree, Tis time to arouse thee, love, Anna-Marie. WAMBA. O Tybalt, love, Tybalt, awake me not yet, Around my soft pillow while softer dreams flit, For what are the joys that in waking we prove, Compared with these visions, O, Tybalt, my love? Let the birds to the rise of the mist carol shrill, Let the hunter blow out his loud horn on the hill, Softer sounds, softer pleasures, in slumber I prove, But think not I dreamt of thee, Tybalt, my love.
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Anna-Marie, love, up is the sun,..."
"Anna-Marie, Love, Up Is The Sun" is a quintessential example of Walter Scott (Sir)'s signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...