A posy of lavender

Come rescue me, find in me a troubadour
a verse upon the strings of lute
an apparition rise and be disposed
and clothed so pure without dispute
 
The gilded lark to reach her ear
and carry my proposal in its beak
just for love, lovelorn in despair  
 lavender its power so unique
 
Vain hope to clutch at empty straw
will she grasp the posy that I toss
the beating heart wings so it soars
or will the shutter close, and all be loss
 
Hold the herbs of love close to her nose
in frame and glass its picture plain  
its essence gain a foothold in her soul
melt her image, haughty, caught in bold distain
 
My couplets ring and be sublime  
repeat my song how many times
the taste the pleasure of her kiss  
not vinegar but wine, if I persist
 
will she use semaphore, guess my demands
colour of her robes will I see revealed  
a dress of red or blue so cortisaine
or virgin white, as I gasp relieved