Grim winter chilled the spirit, fog has bound the mind,
till Spring with his swift fingers loose the bonds that bind,
and Cupid, shooting love-shafts, couples kind to
kind,
--thén will I mend, thén will I wend, thén will I
wóo
you.
Springtime creams to summer, the sap is in the trees,
so golden as the honey of the dreaming bees,
all lost within the buzzing of the brimming breeze,
so golden as the honey of the dreaming bees,
all lost within the buzzing of the brimming breeze,
--when summer's sped, then would I wed, be wedded
tó
you.
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