Once bloomed a rose in Avontown,
A rose as red as the morning.
Its thorns were sharp, but its heart was gold,
And diamond dewdrops its cup did hold.
A rose, for a bride's adorning.

A bride there was in Avontown,
The bride of a bright June morning,
The lovely rose she chanced to see,
And said, Tis an emblem of what my life will be,
I'll pluck it for my adorning.
 
Spake the bride of Avontown:
For the thorns are for grief and mourning,
With a petal for youth and one for health,
And another for fame, and two for wealth,
With the heart for love, life's adorning.

Now as she was wed in Avontown,
In the blush of the bright June morning,
The rose's red petals all fell away,
And naught but the thorny stem did stay,
With the heart of gold, adorning.
 
The bride waxed old in Avontown,
The bride of the bright June morning,
Her rosy dreams long flown away.
But happy was she though bent and gray,
Love stayed, her life adorning.