The rose that all are praising
Is not the rose for me.

The rose that all are praising
Is not the rose for me.

The full-blown rose, mid dewy sweets
Most perfect dies.

The full-blown rose, mid dewy sweets
Most perfect dies.

She wore a wreath of roses,
The night that first we met.

She wore a wreath of roses,
The night that first we met.

Till the rose's lips grow pale
With her sighs.

Till the rose's lips grow pale
With her sighs.

I wish I might a rose-bud grow
And thou wouldst cull me from the bower.
To place read more

I wish I might a rose-bud grow
And thou wouldst cull me from the bower.
To place me on that breast of snow
Where I should bloom a wintry flower.

Go pretty rose, go to my fair,
Go tell her all I fain would dare,
Tell her read more

Go pretty rose, go to my fair,
Go tell her all I fain would dare,
Tell her of hope; tell her of spring,
Tell her of all I fain would sing,
Oh! were I like thee, so fair a thing.

All June I bound the rose in sheaves,
Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.

All June I bound the rose in sheaves,
Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.

This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.

This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.

"For if I wait," said she,
"Till time for roses be,--
For the moss-rose and the musk-rose,
read more

"For if I wait," said she,
"Till time for roses be,--
For the moss-rose and the musk-rose,
Maiden-blush and royal-dusk rose,--
"What glory then for me
In such a company?--
Roses plenty, roses plenty
And one nightingale for twenty?"