A child sleeps under a [rose-bush]1 fair,
The buds swell out in the soft May air;
Sweetly it rests, and on dream-wings flies
To play with the angels in Paradise.
[And the years glide by]2.

A maiden stands by the [rose-bush]1 fair.
The dewy blossoms perfume the air.
She presses her hand to her throbbing breast,
With love's first wonderful rapture blest:
[And the years glide by]2.

A Mother kneels by the [rose-bush]1 fair,
Soft sigh the leaves in the evening air.
Sorrowing thoughts of the past arise,
And tears of anquish bedim her eyes.
[And the years glide by]2.

Naked and [lone]3 stands the [rose-bush]1 [fair]2,
Whirl'd are the leaves in the autumn air,
Wither'd and dead and dead they fall to the ground,
And silently cover a new-made mound:
[And the years glide by]2.