Not by the snowdrops at the peak,

nor where we danced, or bled,

not where my hand caressed your cheek,

not with the fields of roses red,

or where we slept, or dreamt or wept,

not where the promise went unkept,

but where, oh where, dear lover, where?

Not by the way on which we went,

or near the evening laughing spent,

nor o’er the bridges we left charred,

not by the mercies of your heart,

but where, oh where, dear lover, where?