THORNS AND ROSES
I went into my garden,
When first the day was born,
And I saw the roses blowing—
Each rose behind a thorn;
When first the day was born,
And I saw the roses blowing—
Each rose behind a thorn;
And I said "O, Rose forgive me,
But I really must delay
'Till you have no thorns to give me,
So I'll come another day."
But I really must delay
'Till you have no thorns to give me,
So I'll come another day."
And the hours went swinging o'er us,
Melody of bees and birds,
Falling into minor chorus,
Fit for any tender words.
Melody of bees and birds,
Falling into minor chorus,
Fit for any tender words.
And my heart was filled with sadness
Such as from sweet music flows,
'Till I cried, "Alas, what madness,
I had quite forgot my rose!"
Such as from sweet music flows,
'Till I cried, "Alas, what madness,
I had quite forgot my rose!"
Forth I fled, no more delaying:
How I bore it, heaven knows,—
For the tree, its thorns displaying,
Nowhere showed a rose!
How I bore it, heaven knows,—
For the tree, its thorns displaying,
Nowhere showed a rose!
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