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THINKING OF YOU (A.H. Eastman / Fred Heltman, 1920) When the roses were in blossom, and the soft wind sang low, we were sitting in the gloaming, in the long, long ago. Then you told me how you loved me, that old story, ever new; and you kissed me, I remember, now I'm thinking of you. There's a faded little flower I have treasured with care; on my bossom it reposes, I am keeping it there. 'T is a rosebud that you gave me, and the rose is ever true; I am thinking, fondly thinking, yes, I'm thinking of you. In the twilight, softly falling, at the quiet closing of day, tender memories I'm recalling, as the hours are passing away; and the shadows now are flitting, while the bright stars peep through. By the firelight I am sitting, and I'm thinking, dearest, of you.

    


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