Dead Love

Lay white roses on Love's bier;
Kneel there now and weep —
He was fair once, and how dear, -

He who lies asleep.
Yes, he sleeps a sleep so long
That it shall not break —

Like a white rose, leave this song
By him, for Love's sake.
In the glorious summer-time,

In the rose-red June,
As the sun began to climb
To the ardent noon.

Love went singing to the light,
Splendid in his pride;
Wounded came he home at night

Of that wound he died.