 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
UNDER THE ROSE.
If a secret you'd keep there is one I could tell,
Though I think, from my eyes, you might get it as well,
But as it might ruffle another's repose,
Like a thorn let it be;—that is—under the rose.
Though I think, from my eyes, you might get it as well,
But as it might ruffle another's repose,
Like a thorn let it be;—that is—under the rose.
62
As Love, in the garden of Venus, one day,
Was sporting where he was forbidden to play,
He fear'd that some Sylph might his mischief disclose,
So he slily concealed himself—under a rose.
Was sporting where he was forbidden to play,
He fear'd that some Sylph might his mischief disclose,
So he slily concealed himself—under a rose.
Where the likeness is found to thy breath and thy lips,
Where honey the sweetest the summer bee sips,
Where Love, timid Love, found the safest repose,
There our secret we'll keep, dearest,—under the rose.
Where honey the sweetest the summer bee sips,
Where Love, timid Love, found the safest repose,
There our secret we'll keep, dearest,—under the rose.
The maid of the East a fresh garland may wreathe,
To tell of the passion she dares not to breathe:
Thus, in many bright flowers she her flame may disclose,
But in one she finds secresy;—under the rose.
To tell of the passion she dares not to breathe:
Thus, in many bright flowers she her flame may disclose,
But in one she finds secresy;—under the rose.
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |