[Mary:]
When love stands
at the heart's door of a maiden,
Both his hands
with the red roses are laden,
And she hears his call
as the fair morning uncloses;
"Ere they fall,
Will you let me in with my roses?"
But with laughter
Ringing after,
She will send him
From her door,
Bidding him not to importune
Till his fortune
May be more!
For the fancies
And romances
That attend him
Are not sure;
"Ah, do not trouble me, Cupid,
It is stupid to be poor."
But a girl grows old,
And her heart wakens to hunger,
Scorning gold
That she asked when she was younger!
And when love goes by
as the day wearily closes,
Hear her cry:
"I will give my gold for your roses."
But with laughter
Ringing after,
He is turning
From her door,
Love that she scorn'd for a fortune
Will importune
Never more!
For his flowers
Felt the powers
Of the burning
Summer sun;
Roses whose worth she upbraided,
They are faded,
they are done!
(with Chorus:) For it's Love's own rose
That is worth wishing for only!
Soon Love goes,
And we're left longing and lonely,
When he comes our way,
Let us bow down to his power
While we may,
Ere the sky grows gray,
Let us love our day,
For the world cannot pay for an hour
of love, of our love!