‘Every dog has his day.’
Well, dear, do you remember,
How you and I found a golden day
In the midst of a bleak December?
You smiled at the chance of our meeting,
I blushed as I turned away,
While our little world stood by in amaze,
With hands upheld in dismay.
We loosed the chain of our little boat,
And each took an oar in hand.
You spoke no word, but you looked at me,
And we rowed for love's sweet land.
You said, ‘All earth's beauties I see in your face.’
I said, ‘All earth's music you're speaking.’
And the keel of our little craft grated the while
On the silvery strand of our seeking.

You looked at me and I smiled on you—
(O sweet! it was golden weather)—
Then we laughed as the boat glided back from the shore
And we pulled from the land together.
For you thought, perhaps, of another face,
And I—let pass, you remember,
Not half we said on that summer's day
We found in a bleak December.