Nobody knows this little rose, It might a pilgrim be. Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee. Only a bee will miss it, Only a butterfly, Hastening from far journey On its breast to lie. Only a bird will wonder, Only a breeze will sigh, Ah, little rose, how easy For such as thee to die!
Nobody knows this little rose,
It might a pilgrim be.
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a bee will miss it,
Only a butterfly,
Hastening from far journey
On its breast to lie.
Only a bird will wonder,
Only a breeze will sigh,
Ah, little rose, how easy
For such as thee to die!
Beautifully sung!! Bravo!