Somewhere, my love,
there will be songs to sing
although the snow
covers the hope of spring.

Somewhere a hill
blossoms in green and gold
and there are dreams
all that your heart can hold.

      Someday we'll meet again, my love.
      Someday whenever the spring breaks through.

You'll come to me
out of the long ago,
warm as the wind,
soft as the kiss of snow.

Till then, my sweet,
think of me now and then.
God, speed my love
'til you are mine again.

          - Paul Francis Webster