Johnson, Martha Ellen Blockson "Lorena"
Lorena
The years creep slowly by, Lorena
The snow is on the grass again
The sun’s low down the sky, Lorena
The frost gleams where the flow’rs have been.
But the heart throbs on as warmly now,
As when the summer days were nigh;
Oh, the sun can never dip so low,
A-down affection’s cloudless sky.
A hundred months have passed, Lorena,
Since last I held that hand in mine,
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena,
Though mine beat faster far than thine.