Beloved

I
Fair Lucille, my love is warm
As the honey-bees that swarm
In the June-time, happy time,
In the June-time, summer's prime;
Oh, my love is sweetly rare,
Like the breeze of evening air,
And a crystal touch from thee
Brings fresh zephyrs from the sea.
II
Love may come and love may go,
Like the winter's drifting snow;
Love may wither, shrink, and die,
Like the maize in hot July;
But my soul shall cherish one
With the fervor of the sun;
And, no matter what I feel,
I shall always love Lucille.