She wore a wreath of roses

She wore a wreath of roses the night that first we met,

Her lovely face was smiling beneath her curls of jet;

Her footsteps had the lightness, her voice the joyous tone,

The tokens of a youthful heart where sorrow is unknown;

I saw her but a moment, yet me thinks I see her now

With the wreath of summer flowers upon her snowy brow:

A wreath of orange blossoms when next we met, she wore;

The expression of her features was more thoughtful than before;

And standing by her side was one who strove and not in vain

To soothe her, leaving that dear home she ne'er might view again;

I saw her but a moment yet me thinks I see her now

With the wreath of orange blossoms upon her snowy brow.

And once again I see that brow no bridal wreath is there,

The widow's somber cap conceals her once luxuriant hair;

She weeps in silent solitude, and there is no one near

To press her hands within his own and wipe away the tear;

I see her broken hearted! Yet me thinks I see her now,

In the pride of youth and beauty, with a garland on her brow.