In the quiet of an English dawn,
Where the morning mist kisses the earth,
Our hearts find a rhythm, softly drawn,
Embracing love’s tender rebirth.
Beneath the ancient oaks we stand,
With whispers sweet, our souls entwine,
The touch of your gentle hand,
Makes this English garden divine.
The song of the lark high above,
Serenades our love so true,
In the language of the heart, our love,
Finds its home, forever new.
As the English roses bloom around,
Their fragrance a testament to our bond,
Our love, in this sacred ground,
Eternally stretches beyond.