Page:Songs of the Road Doyle.djvu/111



The bloom is on the may once more,

The chestnut buds have burst anew;

But, darling, all our springs are o'er,

'Tis winter still for me and you.

We plucked Life's blossoms long ago

What's left is but December's snow.

But winter has its joys as fair,

The gentler joys, aloof, apart;

The snow may lie upon our hair

But never, darling, in our heart.

Sweet were the springs of long ago

But sweeter still December's snow.