Love’s Climate

In Arctic zone, mid snow and ice,The Eskimo lives out his life;And why he should, I can not see,But I’ll not let it bother me.

In Torrid zone, ’neath scorching rays,The African lives out his days;And if he cares to roast and bake,It does to me no difference make.

But life with you is just one clime—Where’er you are, ’tis blossom time.