Ola M. Joyner
Love me, love me in the Springtime
When the violets and apples bloom so sweet
and I shall run across the meadow
and gather daisies to throw at your feet.
Oh, love me, love me in the Summer
when the mockingbird sings and the pregnant world is lush
and I shall cool your brow with mountain dew
and read to you when all the world is hushed.