When I come to thee will they smile to greet
Thy lover’s steps with their perfume sweet?
Will they list at eve to our tender vows?
Will they weave their wreaths for our gentle brows?
And when at last we are doomed to part,
Will they breathe a sigh for each breaking heart?
Mary, dear Mary, I fain would know,
Do thy heart’s sweet flowers keep their fresh young glow?
Are their eyes yet turned on the skies above?
Do they glitter still with the dews of love?