O let me love you, Mary!
When spring through Foremass strays;
When all the vales are verdant,
And golden all the braes.
Then fair are the flow’rs and blossoms;
But fairer will they be –
If I have you to love, Mary!
And you to love have me.

O let me love you, Mary!
When summer sunlight beams
On the white homes of Foremass,
And on the Foremass streams.
Sweet songs these streams are singing:

But sweeter will they be –

If with your voice they blend, Mary!
The while you talk with me.

O let me love you, Mary!
When leaves of autumn fall,
When the birds’ songs are heard not,
And a hush hangs oe’r all.
Then the grand groves of Foremass
Far more sublime will be –
Reflected in your eyes, Mary!
The while they smile on me.

O let me love you, Mary!

When winter raves and scolds:
And Foremass his white mantle
Around his shoulders folds.
One dear, white home in Foremass
Will dearer, whiter be –
If it be then love’s shrine, Mary!
The home of you and me.