Sweetheart, be my sweetheart When birds are on the wing, When bee and bud and babbling flood Bespeak the birth of spring, Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart And wear this posy-ring! Sweetheart, be my sweetheart In the mellow golden glow Of earth aflush with the gracious blush Which the ripening fields foreshow; Dear sweetheart, be my sweetheart, As into the noon we go! Sweetheart, be my sweetheart When falls the bounteous year, When fruit and wine of tree and vine Give us their harvest cheer; Oh, sweetheart, be my sweetheart, For winter it draweth near. Sweetheart, be my sweetheart When the year is white and old, When the fire of youth is spent, forsooth, And the hand of age is cold; Yet, sweetheart, be my sweetheart Till the year of our love be told!