Choose Love Not In The

In The Bleak Midwinter Frosty Wind Made Moan, Earth Stood Hard As Iron, Water Like A Stone; Snow Had Fallen, Snow On Snow, Snow On Snow, In The Bleak Midwinter, Long Ago.

She Gave Up Beauty In Her Tender Youth, Gave All Her Hope And Joy And Pleasant Ways; She Covered Up Her Eyes Lest They Should Gaze On Vanity, And Chose The Bitter Truth.

Gone Were But The Winter, Come Were But The Spring, I Would Go To A Covert Where The Birds Sing; Where In The Whitethorn Singeth A Thrush, And A Robin Sings In The Holly-bush. Full Of Fresh Scents Are The Budding Boughs Arching High Over A Cool Green House: Full Of Sweet Scents, And Whispering Air Which Sayeth Softly: We Spread No Snare; Here Dwell In Safety, Here Dwell Alone, With A Clear Stream And A Mossy Stone. Here The Sun Shineth Most Shadily; Here Is Heard An Echo Of The Far Sea, Though Far Off It Be.

Spring Is When Life's Alive In Everything.

This Life Is But The Passage Of A Day, This Life Is But A Pang And All Is Over; But In The Life To Come Which Fades Not Away Every Love Shall Abide And Every Lover.