“Where shall we betake us when the day's work is over?
( Ah, red is the rose-bush in the lane. )
Happy is the maid that knows the footstep of her lover —
( Sing the song, the Eden song, again. )
Who shall listen to us when black sorrow comes a-reaping?
( See the young lark falling from the sky. )
Happy is the man that has a true heart in his keeping —
True hearts flourish when the roses die.”