Three Roses
“Oh, shall it be a red rose, a red rose, a red rose,
A deep-tinted red rose?” said she.
“In the sunny garden closes,
How they burn, the dark-red roses,
How they lift up their glowing cups to me!”
“Oh, shall it be a blush rose, a blush rose, a blush rose,
A dewy, dainty blush rose?” said she.
“At its heart a flush so tender,
With what veiled and softened splendor
Droopeth now its languid head toward me!”
“Oh, shall it be a white rose, a white rose, a white rose,
A fair and fragrant white rose?” said she.
“With its pale cheek tinted faintly,
’Tis a vestal, pure and saintly,
Yet its silver lamp is shining now for me!”