Little Lucy Landman

Oh, the day has set me dreaming     In a strange, half solemn way     Of the feelings I experienced     On another long past day,--     Of the way my heart made music     When the buds began to blow,     And o' little Lucy Landman     Whom I loved long years ago.     It 's in spring, the poet tells us,     That we turn to thoughts of love,     And our hearts go out a-wooing     With the lapwing and the dove.     But whene'er the soul goes seeking     Its twin-soul, upon the wing,     I 've a notion, backed by mem'ry,     That it's love that makes the spring.     I have heard a robin singing     When the boughs were brown and bare,     And the chilling hand of winter     Scattered jewels through the air.     And in spite of dates and seasons,     It was always spring, I know,     When I loved Lucy Landman     In the days of long ago.     Ah, my little Lucy Landman,     I remember you as well     As if 't were only yesterday     I strove your thoughts to tell,--     When I tilted back your bonnet,     Looked into your eyes so true,     Just to see if you were loving     Me as I was loving you.     Ah, my little Lucy Landman     It is true it was denied     You should see a fuller summer     And an autumn by my side.     But the glance of love's sweet sunlight     Which your eyes that morning gave     Has kept spring within my bosom,     Though you lie within the grave.