Roses red and white
On the wild-rose tree;
Once 'twas heaven in your sweet light
Here to breathe and be.
Larks were loud, skies blue,
Earth ablaze with June;
What had lovers' hearts to do
But to beat in tune?
Ah! when next I stood
In the trysting-glade,
On each bough were drops like blood
Where the flower had swayed:
Winds were loud, leaves few,
Birds no song could make;
What have lonely hearts to do
But to bear, or break?
Ye that pipe on bough
Ditties of love-lore,
Mute be all your music now,
For she hears no more.
On the wild-rose tree,
Roses white and red,
Old and out of date are ye,
For my love is dead.