TO C. S. 
? I y RE blossom-snow begins to blow 
-®- About the orchard-close, 
The fields forget the violet; 
But soon shall come the rose, my Dear; 
Ah, soon shall bloom the rose! 
The long year’s prime is summer-time, 
And summer’s coming on; 
But the spring o’ the year is all too dear, 
And spring is past and gone, my Dear; 
Oh, this is past and gone. 
