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.