Annie
1849.
When all the hills were rich with gold,
And beauty bloomed on every tree,
One darling more was in the fold,
One treasure more upon the knee.
1866.
When all the fields were white with snow,
And seventeen Autumns passed away,
By Merry Christmas fireside glow
We met that winter holiday.
1870.
When all the fields were fresh and fair,
And bird and brook were all in tune,
Two hearts and hands were given there,
That quiet, lovely day in June.
1887.
And so the seasons are but three,
For Spring and Summer now are one;
And Winter only comes to me
To mark the time of love begun.
When all the hills were rich with gold,
And beauty bloomed on every tree,
One darling more was in the fold,
One treasure more upon the knee.
1866.
When all the fields were white with snow,
And seventeen Autumns passed away,
By Merry Christmas fireside glow
We met that winter holiday.
1870.
When all the fields were fresh and fair,
And bird and brook were all in tune,
Two hearts and hands were given there,
That quiet, lovely day in June.
1887.
And so the seasons are but three,
For Spring and Summer now are one;
And Winter only comes to me
To mark the time of love begun.
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