Three songs , opus 55

If the apple grows on the apple-tree,
And the wild wind blows o'er the wild wood free,
And the deep stream flows to the deeper sea;
And they cannot help growing, and blowing, and flowing,
I cannot help loving thee.

But if wild winds blew no more on the lea,
And no blossoms grew on the healthy tree,
And the river untrue escaped the sea,
And they all had ceased growing, and blowing, and flowing,
I'd never cease loving thee.

And till that hour in the day or night,
In the field or bower, in the dark or light,
In the fruit or flower, in the bloom or blight,
In my reaping or sowing, my coming or going,
I'll never cease loving thee.

The river flows forever;
The moon upon it shines,
One walks beside the river,
With heart that longs and pines.

The softly lapsing river,
It whispers in its flow,
Of dear days gone forever,
Those days of long ago.

He listens to the river;
A spirit seems to say:
"Forever, Love, forever,
some day, some blessed day!"

Dearest, give your love to me,
I will keep it well,
Cradle it, as doth the sea
Hold the shell,
Deep, unseen and secretly.

Dearest, give to me your trust,
I will not betray,
Hold it, as the beacon must
Hold the ray,
Till the lighthouse stones are dust.