The sun streamed over vale and hill,
How joyous all things seemed!
Far in the distance, clear and still,
The yellow cornfields gleamed.
Fair was the summer land;
I held in mine your hand;
Your eyes drew mine, and in their depths I dreamed,
Holding in mine your hand!

Then, on another golden day,
Among the wildwood bowers,
Love had its golden word to say
The while we gathered flowers.
" O love, my heart is thine;
Be thou for ever mine;
Life's loveliest purest gifts will all be ours,
If thou art ever mine! "

In what far other land than this,
Beneath whaTheavenly sky,
Shall we with wild undreamed-of bliss
Meet, sweetheart, you and I?
In what far other land
Shall we together stand,
Past death, past pain and parting, by and bye, —
In what far other land?