The Heart of a Maid

In the heart of a rose Lies the heart of a maid ; If you be not afraid You will wear it. Who knows ? In the pink of its bloom, Lay your lips to her cheek ; Since a rose cannot speak, And you gain the perfume.

If the dews on the leaf Are the tears from her eyes ; If she withers and dies, Why, you have the belief, That a rose cannot speak, Though the heart of a maid In its bosom must fade. And with fading must break.