The sun dips low,
as alway to depart-
darkness falls
night calls;
spring never came to my desolate heart.

Fall and Winter I remember,
never far apart-
one so beautiful
another unmerciful;
spring never came to my desolate heart.

Through blinding snow and ice,
the bitter winter left its mark-
happiness it steals
wounding not to heal;
spring never came to my desolate heart.

By the scorching sun,
I knew summer would start-
blasting my soul
with pain untold;
spring never came to my desolate heart.

When soothing fall came,
its beauty was a dart-
wishing it to stay
but always went away;
spring never came to my desolate heart.

It’s all over now,
as I prepare to depart-
I wish to have seen
at least one Spring;
but spring never came to my desolate heart.