Here is a Rose about to die -
So beautiful and so serene -
But I hear no mourning cry
No sorrow acts in this scene.
Cupid seized her with his hand
His Bow and arrows left aside
“A Rose crowns for her own end,
Her beauty scattered by the wind.”
“Should I strike with your stalk
Or pin your stem near my heart?
Do you want to fly swift as a hawk
And be Cupid’s enchanted dart?”
His aim is holy and cannot miss,
I see the rose on my love’s eye,
Just before she shot a last kiss,
I discover that Cupid was truly I.