The winds of the autumn are sighing, The leaves from the trees falling fast, The roses that erstwhile were blooming, Say mournfully⁠—Summer is past. The daisies have long ago slumbered, Their blossoms I search for in vain; But surely for thee I will look, love, Ere spring time brings them again.

When the Frost-King’s robe is glistening O’er hill, and valley, and glen, When the bright sleigh-bells are jingling, I know he’ll come to me then. So sunlight, or starlight, or moonlight, Wherever my truant you see, Just tell him you left me a-waiting Far over the deep blue sea.