The garden of roses

There is a garden of roses far away to the east,

Where a maiden lies asleep;

The roses have no thorns in that garden,

And they grow softly about her

And make a pillow for her fair head.

A blustering wind came once and nearly waked her,

But she was so beautiful that he fell deep in love;

And he turned into the softest breeze

That ever fanned a woman's cheek in summer,

For fear lest he should trouble her sleep.