I thought my heart was death chilled,
I thought its fires were cold;
But the new love, the new love,
It warmeth like the old.

I thought its rooms were shadowed
With the gloom of endless night;
But the new love, the new love,
It fills them full of light.

I thought the chambers empty,
And proclaimed it unto men;
But the new love, the new love,
It peoples them again.

I thought its halls were silent,
And hushed the whole day long;
But the new love, the new love,
It fills them full of song.

Then here is to the new love,
Let who will sing the old;
The new love, the new love,
'Tis more than fame or gold.

For it gives us joy for sorrow,
And it gives us warmth for cold;
Oh! the new love, the new love,
'Tis better than the old.