  WHEN you are twining wreaths of rose and columbine To soften outlines of a tomb too new, Remember, spring makes little tents all green and cool For soldier boys this old world never knew. When spring comes tripping down the lane once more And children bring you violets of blue, When your tender heart is strained, beyond the breaking Let this be my farewell, dear heart, to you. When spring comes romping, singing, back again, Dressed in her garments fragrant, fresh and new; When once more robins sing among the budding trees All honey sweet, with apple blooms and dew. When you have searched the woods as once you did For specimens of moss and long, dank fern, Remember, that I too have loved the flowers But, look no more, no more for my return. |
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