Come to me pretty, hold my hand

and guide us though our heavenly land.

Let nature, all it's wonders bring

contentment in our early spring.

I am as you, so young and prime

and wish our souls to soft entwine.

Each hour, I look upon your breast

and know my hand will cup it best.

Oh no! This cannot be allowed

I hear old hearts cry out aloud.

They have forgot their early spring

when such a joy of life did sing.

Or has their time on Earth decayed

their once full energy betrayed.

All of their clamour is of nought

our love is to each other brought.