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Be My Sweetheart

From The Birmingham Age Herald, August 14, 1913. By Eugene Field.

Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
    When birds are on the wing,
When bee and bud and babbling flood
    Bespeak the birth of spring;
Come sweetheart, be my sweetheart
    And wear this posy ring.

Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
    In the golden summer glow
Of the earth aflush with the gracious blush
    Which the ripening fields foreshow;
Dear sweetheart, be my sweetheart
    As into the noon we go.

Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
    When falls the bounteous year,
When the fruit and wine of tree and vine
    Give us their harvest cheer;
O sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
    For winter, it draweth near.

Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
    When the year is white and old,
When the fire of youth is spent, forsooth,
    And the hand of age is cold;
Yet, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
    ‘Till the year of our love be told.

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