THE LOVE OF THE ROSE

Trilled forth the Nightingale

In sweetest sleep of day —

Unto his love, the rose,

Ah golden heart, unclose!

For love, my fairest rose, will last for aye.

So, thro’ the waning night

She learned to wear her crown;

Yielded her heart's sweet strife

And found that love was life

Set to the time the dear bird lilted down.

But when the morning came

The red sun burned above;

Hid are the night birds all,

Flower petals fade and fall;

The rose is dead — and what became of love!