Red Rose I plucked a rose, a red rose rare, I placed her on a throne Within my heart; and there I dare To worship her alone. An idol, thus, I paid to her My constant vigil, love, and care. Upon my knees, I prayed to her, My whole heart in my prayer. Alas! my love, my care, my prayer, Failed! failed to keep my treasure fair. I saw (my heart filled with despair) Her drooping head; Her beauty, grace and fragrance flown, Her every leaf and petal shorn, I gazed in silence—and alone— Upon my dead. |
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