Love me. I care not what the circling years To me may do. If, but in spite of time and tears, You prove but true. Love me--albeit grief shall dim mine eyes, And tears bedew, I shall not e'en complain, for then my skies Shall still be blue. Love me, and though the winter snow shall pile, And leave me chill, Thy pa**ion's warmth shall make for me, meanwhile, A sun-kissed hill. And when the days have lengthened into years, And I grow old, Oh, spite of pains and griefs and cares and fears, Grow thou not cold. Then hand and hand we shall pa** up the hill, I say not down; That twain go up, of love, who 've loved their fill,-- To gain love's crown. Love me, and let my life take up thine own, As sun the dew. Come, sit, my queen, for in my heart a throne Awaits for you!