Don't turn around, my darling,
But please hear my song---
In just a few minutes, I shall be starting.
Don't turn around, my darling,
For Shakespeare was wrong---
There's nothing sweet about the sorrow of parting.

In the spring of our youth,
In the morning of our days,
In the sunlight that blends
Into hazy yellow rays.
In the scent of the dew
And the waning of the moon---
In the sound of the leaves
In the still afternoon.
That's how our love is
And how it shall be---
For don't you see?
From the prime of our youth
To the nighttime of our days---
It's our love that will grow
In a thousand different ways.
From the spring of our youth
To the winter of our days.
 

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