A RED ROSE
O Rose, my red, red Rose,
Where has thy beauty fled?
Low in the west is a sea of fire,
But the great white moon soars high and higher,
As my garden walks I tread.
Where has thy beauty fled?
Low in the west is a sea of fire,
But the great white moon soars high and higher,
As my garden walks I tread.
Thy white rose-sisters gleam
Like stars in the darkening sky;
They bend their brows with a sudden thrill
To the kiss of the night-dews soft and still,
When the warm south wind floats by.
Like stars in the darkening sky;
They bend their brows with a sudden thrill
To the kiss of the night-dews soft and still,
When the warm south wind floats by.
And the stately lilies stand
Fair in the silvery light,
Like saintly vestals, pale in prayer;
Their pure breath sanctifies the air,
As its fragrance fills the night.
Fair in the silvery light,
Like saintly vestals, pale in prayer;
Their pure breath sanctifies the air,
As its fragrance fills the night.
But O, my red, red Rose!
My Rose with the crimson lips!
So bright thou wert in the sunny morn,
Yet now thou art hiding all forlorn,
And thy soul is in drear eclipse!
My Rose with the crimson lips!
So bright thou wert in the sunny morn,
Yet now thou art hiding all forlorn,
And thy soul is in drear eclipse!
Dost thou mourn thy lover dead—
Thy lover, the lordly Sun?
Didst thou see him sink in the glowing west
With pomp of banners above his rest?
He shall rise again, sweet one!
Thy lover, the lordly Sun?
Didst thou see him sink in the glowing west
With pomp of banners above his rest?
He shall rise again, sweet one!
