Where shall I find a white rose blowing ?
Out in the garden where all sweets be.
But out in my garden the snow was snowing,
And never a white rose opened for me,
Nought but snow and wind were blowing
   And snowing.

Where shall I find a red rose budding ?
Out in the garden where all things grow.
But out in my garden a flood was flooding
And never a red rose began to blow.
Out in a flooding what should be budding ?
   All flooding !

Now is winter and now is sorrow,
No roses but only thorns to-day :
Thorns will put on roses to-morrow,
Winter and sorrow scudding away.
No more winter and no more sorrow
   To-morrow.