Dear Love, where the red lilies blossomed and grew
The white snows are falling;
And all through the woods where I wandered with you
The loud winds are calling;
And the robin that piped to us, tune upon tune,
Neath the oak, you remember,
O'er hilltop and forest has followed the June
And left us December.
He left like a friend that is true in the sun
And false in the shadows;
He has found new delights in the land where he's gone,
Greener woodlands and meadows.
Let him go! what care we? let the snow shroud the lea,
Let it drift on the heather;
We can sing through it all: I have you, you have me,
And we'll laugh at the weather.
The old year may die, and a new year be born
That is bleaker and colder:
I cannot dismay us; we dare it, we scorn,
For our love makes us bolder.
Ah, Robin! sing loud on your far distant lea,
You friend in fair weather!
But here is a song sung that's fuller of glee
By two warm hearts together.
Poems of Passion by Ella Wheeler
Chicago : Belford, Clarke & Co, 1883.
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