  When Autumn's here and days are short, Let Lydia laugh and, hey! Straightway 't is May-day in my heart, And blossoms strew the way. When Summer's here and days are long, Let Lydia sigh and, ho! December's fields I walk among, And shiver in the snow. No matter what the Seasons are, My Lydia is so dear, My soul admits no Calendar Of earth when she is near. |
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