White rose

Far in the inland valleys,

The Spring her secret tells;

The roses lift on the bushes,

The lilies shake their bells.

To a lily of the valley

A white rose leans from above

"Little white flower o'the valley,

Come up and be my love."

To the lily of the valley

A speedwell whispers, "No!

Where the roses live are thorns,

'Tis safe below."

The lily clomb to the rose-bush,

A thorn in her side:

The white rose has wedded a red rose,

And the lily died.