let us make a leap, my dear,

in our love, of many a year,

and date it very far away,

on a bright clear summer day,

when the heart was like a sun

to itself, and falsehood none;

and the rosy lips a part

of the very loving heart,

and the shining of the eye

but a sign to know it by; —

when my faults were all forgiven,

and my life deserved of heaven.

dearest, let us reckon so,

and love for all that long ago;

each absence count a year complete,

and keep a birthday when we meet.