The years creep slowly by, Lorena,
The snow is on the grass again,
The sun's low down the sky, Lorena,
The frost gleams where the flow'rs 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,
Adown affection's cloudless sky.
The sun can never dip so low,
Adown affection's cloudless sky.

A hundred months have pass'd Lorena,
Since last I held that hand in mine,
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena,
Tho' mine beat faster far than thine.
A hundred months, 'twas flow'ry May,
When up the hilly slope we climbed,
To watch the dying of the day,
And hear the distant churchbells chimed.
To watch the dying of the day,
And hear the distant churchbells chimed.

We loved each other then Lorena,
More than we ever dared to tell;
And what we might have been, Lorena,
Had but our lovings prosper'd well
But then, 'tis past-the years are gone,
I'll not call up their shadowy forms;
I'll say to them, "lost years, sleep on!
Sleep on! Nor heed, life's pelting storm."
I'll say to them, "lost years, sleep on!
Sleep on! Nor heed, life's pelting storm."