There is a vine growing by garden wall,
And it is brown and withered in the fall,
And in the spring its leaves are green and blossoms all aflame,
But spring or fall, still I love you just the same
There is a gate halfway down my garden wall,
And in the night I lock it, bolts and all,
And in the day it's open wide to all who would come through,
But day or night, it is never locked for you.
There is a tree growing by my garden gate
And year by year it seems to stand and wait,
And here am I for like the tree, I am waiting too,
And, oh my love, I will always wait for you.
