63
Dark may be the days and years
Strewn with leaves of roses dead;
Smile we brighter for the tears
When the northern winds have fled.
Singer sweet, the thought is true,—
Roses fade and springs run dry;
But there's nothing old or new
That has life can ever die.
Strewn with leaves of roses dead;
Smile we brighter for the tears
When the northern winds have fled.
Singer sweet, the thought is true,—
Roses fade and springs run dry;
But there's nothing old or new
That has life can ever die.
Sweetest hopes must needs be fed
If they'd spring to life anew,
When grief's winter shall have fled,
Giving place to sun and dew;
When earth withers like the rose,
All its treasure leaves closed up,
Then that other blossom blows
Life immortal in its cup.
If they'd spring to life anew,
When grief's winter shall have fled,
Giving place to sun and dew;
When earth withers like the rose,
All its treasure leaves closed up,
Then that other blossom blows
Life immortal in its cup.
