I know I am but summer to your heart,
And not the full seasons of the year;
And you welcome from another part
Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear.
I have loved you all too long and well
To carry still the high sweet breast of Spring.
Love, as summer goes,I must be gone
You hail the bird and rose
When I come back to you, as summer comes.
Else you seek, at some not distant time,
Even your summer in another clime.
Songs you hope he's thinking, while you move on with your life, or try to.