Dream not of spring-tide's blossoms,
They perished long ago,
And all dead summer's roses
Are past; the autumn's glow
Has faded from the woodland;
The world is white with snow.
The sea lies grey below me,
Above the trees are bare,
The brook is hush'd and silent,
Whose music filled the air,
That far off day in summer,
When we two wander'd there.
What dreams, like spring, have vanished;
What radiant joy, what fears,
What hopes that never ripened,
What summers wet with tears,
What vain regrets, what longings,
Lie buried with past years.
To me the breath of winter,
Is welcome, for I know
No other voice will mingle
With hers above the snow;
In spring tide and in autumn,
Across the long-ago
Your voice seems ever calling;
And I may not forget
The days when roses blossom'd.
A life-time of regret
Has made me love the winter
Because we never met,
But with blue skies above us;
No footprint on the snow,
Calls back the days departed,
To me the summer's glow
Comes but to stir a memory,
Deep buried mid the snow.
