Lydia

When Autumn’s here and days are short, Let Lydia laugh and, hey! Straightway ’t is May-day in my heart, And blossoms strew the way.

When Summer ’s here and days are long, Let Lydia sigh and, ho! December’s fields I walk among, And shiver in the snow.

No matter what the seasons are, My Lydia is so dear, My heart admits no calendar Of Earth when she is near.