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.