Oh, the years creep slowly by, Lorena.
The snow is on the ground again.
The sun's low down the sky, Lorena.
The frost gleams where the flowers have been.
But the heart beats on as warmly now,
As when
the summer days were nigh.
Oh, the sun can never dip so low,
A down
-a-fection's cloudless sky.
A hundred months have passed, Lorena,
Since last I held thy hand in mine,
And felt
thy pokes beat fast, Lorena,
Though mine beat faster far than thine.
A hundred months t'was flowery May,
When up the hilly slope we climbed,
To watch the dying of the day,
And hear
the distant church bell chime.
We loved
each other then, Lorena,
Far more than we ever dared to tell,
And what
we might have been, Lorena,
Had but our loving prospered well.
But then,
t'was past the years are gone,
I'll not call up the shadowy forms,
I'll say to them, Lost years, sleep on,
Sleep on,
nor heed last pouting storm.
It matters a little now,
Lorena,
The past is in the eternal past.
Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena,
Life's tide is ebbing oh so fast.
There
is a future, oh thank God,
Of life this is so small a part.
It is dust to dust beneath the sun,
But there,
up there, it is heart to heart.