by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749 - 1832)
Translation by Theodore Martin, Sir, KCB KCVO (1816 - 1909)

Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
Roses, ah, how fair ye be ! 
Ye are fading, dying ! 
Ye should with my lady be, 
On her bosom lying ; 

All your bloom is lost on me, 
Here despairing, sighing. 
Oh, the golden dreams I nursed, 
Ere I knew thy scorning, 

When I pour'd my passion first, 
And at break of morning, 
Pluck'd the rosebuds, ere they burst, 
For thy breast's adorning ! 

Every fruit and floweret rare, 
To thy feet I bore it, 
Fondly knelt, to see thee there, 
Bending fondly o'er it,


Based on

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2009-10-22
Line count: 16
Word count: 87