 | Rose Leaves |  |
ROSE LEAVES.
The red rose bloomed in the garden,
The wild rose bloomed in the lane,
And the yellow rose went tapping
At Dorothy's window pane;
My heart was a glad June garden
And Love was the bud it nursed;
And she wore a rose in her bodice
The day when I kissed her first.
The wild rose bloomed in the lane,
And the yellow rose went tapping
At Dorothy's window pane;
My heart was a glad June garden
And Love was the bud it nursed;
The day when I kissed her first.
When the old church bells were ringing,
My heart to their tune beat fast,
The children scattered the roses
At Dorothy's feet as she passed
With a mouth like a sweet red rose,
And her cheeks like twin-roses pale,
And her eyes like stars in a mist
Shining out through her bridal veil.
My heart to their tune beat fast,
The children scattered the roses
At Dorothy's feet as she passed
With a mouth like a sweet red rose,
And her cheeks like twin-roses pale,
Shining out through her bridal veil.
We were glad in our cottage home,
Where the roses grew fresh and gay;
We never begrudged a nosegay
To the folk who passed by that way.
There wasn't a bush in the village
Could show such roses as ours,
For the rose-trees knew that we loved them
And paid back our love with their flowers.
Where the roses grew fresh and gay;
We never begrudged a nosegay
To the folk who passed by that way.
There wasn't a bush in the village
Could show such roses as ours,
And paid back our love with their flowers.
When the prayer of our love was granted,
And our little baby was born,
The white rose gave me a bud
On our Rose's birthday morn.
Our little one grew to pluck them—
The yellow, the pink, and the rest,
And ever she loved the red rose,
But she loved the white rose best.
And our little baby was born,
The white rose gave me a bud
On our Rose's birthday morn.
The yellow, the pink, and the rest,
And ever she loved the red rose,
But she loved the white rose best.
So when the dark Angel came,
After few little, bright little years,
And gathered our Baby Rosebud
For all our prayers and our fears,
When the dear little feet were still,
And the dear little head laid low,
We laid the white roses about her,
Because she had loved them so.
After few little, bright little years,
And gathered our Baby Rosebud
For all our prayers and our fears,
When the dear little feet were still,
And the dear little head laid low,
We laid the white roses about her,
Because she had loved them so.
And the roses bloomed fresh and frail,
And their leaves fell soft and sweet.
But never again to our hearth
Came the music of tiny feet,
Yet we planted the white, white roses
To bloom on the churchyard sod,
And we know that our Rose is blooming
A rose in the garden of God.
And their leaves fell soft and sweet.
But never again to our hearth
Yet we planted the white, white roses
To bloom on the churchyard sod,
And we know that our Rose is blooming
A rose in the garden of God.
Ah! Youth is the bud of the rose,
And Love is the flower full-blown,
And for Age are the dried rose petals;
The dry rose leaves are our own,
Sweet-scented with youth long past,
And with promise of Heaven in store,
Where the rose shall blossom for ever,
And the rose leaves shall fall no more!
And Love is the flower full-blown,
And for Age are the dried rose petals;
Sweet-scented with youth long past,
And with promise of Heaven in store,
Where the rose shall blossom for ever,
And the rose leaves shall fall no more!
E. Nesbit.
| Rose Leaves | |