Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
 When birds are on the wing,
When bee and bud and babbling flood
 Bespeak the birth of spring,
Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
 And wear this posy-ring!

Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
 In the mellow golden glow
Of earth aflush with the gracious blush
 Which the ripening fields foreshow;
Dear sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
 As into the noon we go!

Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
 When falls the bounteous year,
When fruit and wine of tree and vine
 Give us their harvest cheer;
Oh, sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
 For winter it draweth near.

Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
 When the year is white and old,
When the fire of youth is spent, forsooth,
 And the hand of age is cold;
Yet, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
 Till the year of our love be told!