Love's Close.

Now spring comes round again With blossom on the tree, Dark blossom of the peach, Light blossom of the pear

And amorous birds complain And nesting birds prepare And love's keen fingers reach After the heart of me.

But now the blackthorn blows About the dusty lane And new buds peep and peer, I have no joy at all,

For love draws near its close And love's white blossoms fall And in the springing year Love's fingers bring me pain.