See—two who dreamed that dream, and you were one. THE LOVER TO HIS LASS. Dearest, the Winter is here! Dearest, “It will be sad,” so you said, “When no green leaves overhead Shadow the paths where we tread!” I said “It still will be dear If we still meet, O my sweet!” See how the seasons are kind! See this December forget How to be weary and wet! Hardly our June I regret, Winter so comely I find Since you are here, O my dear! Sweetheart, I sometimes believe, Love, not the sun, makes us glad;
Prev.
Back
Top