The years creep slowly by, Lorena, the snow is on the grass again.
The suns glow down the sky, Lorena, the frost gleams where the flowers have been.
But the heart throbs on as warmly now as when the summer days were nigh.
Oh, the sun can never dip so low and down affection's cloudless sky.
A hundred months have passed, Lorena, since last I held that hand in mine.
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena, though mine beat faster far than thine.
A hundred months was flowery May when up the hilly slope we climbed.
Oh, to watch the dying of the day and hear the distant church bells chime.
It matters little now, Lorena, the past is in the eternal past.
Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena, life's tide is ebbing out so fast.
There is a future, oh thank God, of life this is so small a part.
Tis dust to dust beneath the sod, but there, up there, tis heart to heart, Lorena.
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