Vagabonds

Your heart's a-tune with April and mine a-tune with June, So let us go a-roving beneath the summer moon: Oh, was it in the sunlight, or was it in the rain, We met among the blossoms within the locust lane? All that I can remember's the bird that sang aboon, And with its music in our hearts we'll rove beneath the moon.

A love-word of the wind, dear, of which we'll read the rune, While we still go a-roving beneath the summer moon: A love-kiss of the water we'll often stop to hear-- The echoed words and kisses of our own love, my dear: And all our path shall blossom with wild-rose sweets that swoon, And with their fragrance in our hearts we'll rove beneath the moon.

It will not be forever, yet merry goes the tune While we still go a-roving beneath the summer moon: A cabin, in the clearing, of flickering firelight When old-time lanes we strolled in the winter snows make white: Where we can nod together above the logs and croon The songs we sang when roving beneath the summer moon.