• My own dear love, she is strong and bold
    And she cares not what comes after.
    Her words ring sweet as a chime of gold,
    And her eyes are lit with laughter.
    She is jubilant as a flag unfurled—
    Oh, a girl, I’d not forget her.
    My own dear love, she is all my world,—
    And i'm glad I met her.


    My love, she’s beautiful, and my love, she’s to keep,
    And a wild young boy bore her!
    The ways are fair to her roaming feet,
    And the skies are sunlit for her.
    As sharply sweet to my heart she seems
    As the fragrance of love.
    My own dear love, she is all my dreams,—
    And she, pure as a dove.


    My love runs by like a day in June,
    And she makes no friends of sorrows.
    We shall never be apart,
    In the pathway of the morrows.
    She’ll live her days where the sunbeams start,
    Nor could storm or wind uproot her.
    My own dear love, she is all my heart,—
    And i'm glad I met her.