Page:Roses in Rain, by Lilian Wooster Greaves, 1910.pdf/25



“Sweet as the smile of the morning
 * Your radiant petals unfold,

Breathing out fragrance and beauty
 * Just like the red roses of old.

“And yet you can tell me no secret—
 * For me every tale has been told,

Away in a dear Eastern garden
 * By the beautiful roses of old.

“Go, sigh upon Ella’s fair bosom,
 * Or smile from her bright head of gold;

I learned all my lessons in loving
 * 'Mid the royal red roses of old.”

So saying, I called and adorned her,
 * When up to the gate someone strolled,

And smilingly gave her a handful
 * Just like the red roses of old.

And soon in his coat he was wearing
 * The bloom from her bright head of gold

So the roses can still tell me secrets,
 * Like the glorious roses of old.