Methinks that she dost not yet understand
though explained have I,
that I am at her command
awaiting her request to fly.
So ready am I
at a moments notice,
to soar so high,
for in her, I have found my purpose.

If she speaketh the three words
Though to others they must sound absurd
the fluttering in my heart shall be
Magnified almost ludicrously
And such three words
That giveth excuse to become a bird
How perfect the day shall be
When she sayeth “fly with me”

Fair maid, so close to my heart
I am ready whenever thou art.
I can forsake obligation and duty
To soar above mountain and sea.
Above Lake Forest, her green home
A place commonly unknown by some
Above the place where time passes slow
Far from the pollution of Sacramento.

What dost thou think of what I have said?
For thou art the only fair maid,
With which I wish to share this dream,
Too perfect it may almost seem.
Tis too perfect, an impossible task,
Something not possible is what I ask.
We have not wings, but the inclination
We have not feathers, nor an angelic station.

I suppose the next best thing,
Is to ask thee to stay with me,
And though we know that no one flies,
I feel I can when I see thine eyes,
Eyes of bronze, where my inspiration sits,
Methinks my heart can settle for this.