Roses And Rue

Bring me the roses white and red,

And take the laurel leaves away;

Yea, wreathe the roses round my

That wearies 'neath the crown of bay."We searched the wintry forests thro'And found no roses anywhere—But we have brought a little

To twine a circlet for your hair."I would not pluck the rose in May,

I wove a laurel crown instead;

And when the crown is cast away,

They bring me rue — the rose is dead.