None shall weep a tear for me

My Life is like the summer rose

That opens to the morning sky,

But, e'er the shades of evening close,

Is scattered on the ground to die;

Yet on the rose's humble head

The sweetest dews of night are shed,

As if they wept the waste to see,

But none shall weep a tear for me.

My life is like the autumn leaf

That trembles in the moons pale ray;

Its hold is frail, its date is brief,

Tis restless soon to pass away;

Yet when that leaf shall fall and fade

The parent tree will mourn its shade

The winds bewail the leafless tree,

But none shall weep a tear for me.