Under the Rose

A. Wilson

She wears a rose in her hair,

At the twilight's dreamy close:

Her face is fair, how fair

Under the rose.

I steal like a shadow there,

As she sits in rapt repose,

And whisper my loving prayer

Under the rose.

She takes the rose from her hair,

And her color comes and goes,

And I-a lover will dare

Under the rose!