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All winter long I hear the throstle’s tune,

All winter long red roses I can see,

Reading the while Love’s ancient magic rune.

In Love’s fair garden-close I wander free,

So take your guerdon elsewhere, lovely June.

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Loveland is fair to see,

Of all kind havens best,

Dwell here, my Sweet, with me.

Here flowers bloom for thee,

Thy feet are rose-caressed,

Loveland is fair to see.

The violets shall be

Thy soft and fragrant nest,

Dwell here, my Sweet, with me.

Thou shalt not lack for glee,

Here life is but a jest;

Loveland is fair to see.

None shall be glad as we;

Ah, grant me my behest,

Dwell here, my Sweet, with me.

Now would I ask my fee,

Thy red heart I request;

Loveland is fair to see,

Dwell here, my Sweet, with me.

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In a carven censer of burnished words,

Swung on a golden chain of rhythm,

For you I burn my heart.

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All day I serve among the volumes telling

Old tales of love and war and high romance;

Good company, God wot, is in them dwelling,