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!