Bleak Weather.

Dear Love, where the red lilies blossomed and grew          The white snows are falling;              And all through the woods where I wandered with you          The loud winds are calling;              And the robin that piped to us tune upon tune,          Neath the oak, you remember,              O'er hill-top and forest has followed the June          And left us December.              He has left like a friend who is true in the sun          And false in the shadows;              He has found new delights in the land where he's gone,          Greener woodlands and meadows.              Let him go! what care we? let the snow shroud the lea,          Let it drift on the heather;              We can sing through it all: I have you, you have me.          And we'll laugh at the weather.              The old year may die and a new year be born          That is bleaker and colder:              It cannot dismay us; we dare it, we scorn,          For our love makes us bolder.              Ah, Robin! sing loud on your far distant lea,          You friend in fair weather!              But here is a song sung that's fuller of glee,          By two warm hearts together.