With locks of golden hair placed still,
The fair maiden sat upon the mossy log,
With grace and poise if you will,
Gazed through the meadows of frost white fog;

Her heart was yearning, wondering with wait,
Searching for her soul mate,
Wishing for prince charming to come,
Plucking the purple petals from the mum;

All at once she heard the clicks,
As the white horse pranced down the hill,
Through the woods, across the crackling sticks,
Past Old Man Vick's Mill;

Stopping the gallop his blue eyes gleamed,
With his chiseled features just as she had dreamed,
Wisps of soft brown hair that blew across his face,
He hopped down and complimented her dress of white lace;

His breastplate glistened in the sunlight,
Tan skin vibrant and creamy,
The feeling of love started to feel right,
Her heart suddenly fluttered, he was so dreamy;

He embraced her with the feeling of love,
They sat there awhile just watching the doves,
They kissed as her heart skipped a beat,
They rode away together; he had swept her off her feet.