Gold Hill Daily News

I love the new-born fragrant spring.
For then the flowers, too, have their birth—
The birds, returning, sweetly sing.
And resurrection comes to earth.

Then in the daisy-spangled lane,
Beneath the silver moon and star,
I court my queenly Mary Jane,
And scoff at ague and catarrh.

I love the summer with its glow,
For then, with Mary by my side,
I sit upon the portico
And ask her if she'll be my bride;

And as she blushing answers yea,
I pounce upon the little miss,
And in the darkness steal away
A little truant maiden kiss.

I love the autumn—be it sere;
And let the winds be e'er so chill—
My bridal and my bride are near;
I love, I love the autumn still!

Though Nature wear a sombre mien,
And all her creatures seem to wane,
'Tis autumn gives to me my queen—
My own, my peerless Mary Jane!

I hate the winter with its snow—
It is the bane of wedded life;
I've drunk the very dregs of woe,
For Mary Jane is now my wife;

And be it e'er so cold and drear,
Each morn, at 6 o'clock or prior,
My darling whispers in my ear:
"Tis time, my love, to build the fire!"