Oh, the day has set me dreaming br In a strange, half solemn way br Of the feelings I experienced br On another long past day,-- br Of the way my heart made music br When the buds began to blow, br And o' little Lucy Landman br Whom I loved long years ago. br br It 's in spring, the poet tells us, br That we turn to thoughts of love, br And our hearts go out a-wooing br With the lapwing and the dove. br But whene'er the soul goes seeking br Its twin-soul, upon the wing, br I 've a notion, backed by mem'ry, br That it's love that makes the spring. br br I have heard a robin singing br When the boughs were brown and bare, br And the chilling hand of winter br Scattered jewels through the air. br And in spite of dates and seasons, br It was always spring, I know, br When I loved Lucy Landman br In the days of long ago. br br Ah, my little Lucy Landman, br I remember you as well br As if 't were only yesterday br I strove your thoughts to tell,-- br When I tilted back your bonnet, br Looked into your eyes so true, br Just to see if you were loving br Me as I was loving you. br br Ah, my little Lucy Landman br It is true it was denied br You should see a fuller summer br And an autumn by my side. br But the glance of love's sweet sunlight br Which your eyes that morning gave br Has kept spring within my bosom, br Though you lie within the grave.