Song
Dear, perchance 'neath the frost and snow-
One little golden flower is sleeping,
You shall find it, for you will know-
Whither at dawn the sun goes peeping.

Come then sweetheart, we two will go
Hand in hand, and a truce to weeping,
If, in spite of the winter's woe,
Safe in Nature's maternal keeping
Under the frost rime and under the snow,
One little primrose is daintily sleeping.