O little rose, O dark rose, 
With smouldering petals curled, 
I am the wind that comes for you 
From the other side of the world. 

O little rose, O dark rose, 
With the wild and golden heart, 
I am your bee with burdened wings, 
Too laden to depart. 

O little rose, O dark rose, 
Your soul a seed of fire, 
I am the dew that dies in you, 
In the flame of your desire. 

O little rose, O dark rose, 
The madness of your breath! 
I am the moth to drain your sweet, 
Even though the dregs be death. 

O little rose, O dark rose, 
When the garden day is done 
I am the dusk that broods o’er you 
Until the morrow’s sun.