As winter nights, by warm fires lights,
so easily passed to spring.
No more to hold or to enfold,
as midnight church bells ring.
Now buds at last pronounce its past
snowdrops turning to dust.
The diamonds on the sill have gone,
and no more leaves of rust.
The flower beds are sprouting heads,
the flowers soon returned.
But my heart aches, for winter breaks,
and our love like fire burned.
Migrating birds replace soft words,
as grass again now grows.
But oh the springs, such sorrow brings,
but my ache never shows.
For in that time your love was mine,
and in the spring you left.
Now here i stand, flowers in hand,
and weep my love bereft.
Just I alone clean up your stone,
and tidy up your plot.
For winter bloom, was gone too soon,
but never be forgot.