Emerald queen of my longing heart, where my thoughts of her are lovingly kept, my worship of her and her shamrocks, dewy long grasses, bellflowers. In a spring slumber, I kiss the Wild Irish Rose, I adore her fluttering lashes of otherworldly gentian blue eyes, with her soft brogue of April melodies, and place the silver Claddagh ring on her ivory finger, as her wavy, long deepest red hair blows gently around her white lace draped shoulders, and this breathless cherished of moments, bides it's time in the great love of a young man's dreams.