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!