In the year that's come and gone, love, his flying feather Stooping slowly, gave us heart, and bade us walk together.
In the year that's coming on, though many a troth be broken, We at least will not forget aught that love hath spoken.
In the year that's come and gone, dear, we wove a tether All of gracious words and thoughts, binding two together.
In the year that's coming on with its wealth of roses We shall weave it stronger, yet, ere the circle closes.
In the year that's come and gone, in the golden weather, Sweet, my sweet, we swore to keep the watch of life together.
In the year that's coming on, rich in joy and sorrow, We shall light our lamp, and wait life's mysterious morrow.
1877
