The winters come and go;
The wind sweeps past with mournful cry, dear Paul,
And pelt my face with snow.
But there’s no snow upon the heart, dear Paul.
’Tis summer always there;
Those early loves throw sunshine over all,
And sweeten memories dear.
I’ve kept you ever in my heart, dear Paul.
Through years of good and ill;
Our souls could not be torn apart, dear Paul,