Summer and Spring.

We sat under an old thorn-tree

And talked away the night,

Told all that had been said or done

Since first we saw the light,

And when we talked of growing up

Knew that we'd halved a soul

And fell the one in t'other's arms

That we might make it whole;

Then peter had a murdering look,

For it seemed that he and she

Had spoken of their childish days

Under that very tree.

O what a bursting out there was,

And what a blossoming,

When we had all the summer-time

And she had all the spring!