"To a heaven far away 
Went the red rose when she died."
So I heard the White Rose say, 
As she swayed from side to side.

Oh, the chill October blast!
In the garden leaves fall fast;
This of roses is the last:

Said the White Rose: 
"O my Red Rose! O my Rose so fair to see!
When, like thee, I am a dead rose, 
Shall I in that heaven be?"

Oh, the chill October blast!
In the garden leaves fall fast;
This of roses is the last.

From that heav'nly place last night,
To me in a dream she came,
Stood there in the pale moonlight;
And she seemed, my Rose, the same.

Oh, the chill October blast!
In the garden leaves fall fast;
This of roses is the last.

Only it may be, perchance,
That her leaves were redder grown,
And they seemed to thrill and dance,
As by gentler breezes blown.

"And she told me, sweetly singing,
 of that heav'nly place afar,
Where the air with song is ringing,
Where the souls of blossoms are."

Hark, the wild October blast!
In the garden leaves fall fast; 
Hark, the wild, the wild October blast,
In the garden leaves fall fast;

"And she bade me not to fail her,
Nor to lose my heart for fear. 
When I saw the skies turn paler 
With the sickness of the year,
I should be beyond the blast!

Hark! The dread October blast!
This of roses is the last!
And the dead leaves falling, falling fast,
In that heavenly place at last!