Queen of the garden bloomed a rose,
Queen of the roses round her:
Never a wayward wind that blows
Breathed on the bower that bound her;
The sunset lingered on her face,
And Phoebus, westward roaming,
Illumined with a golden grace
The empress of the gloaming.
Never a moon at evening rose
But in the twilight found her
Regal in rest, in red repose,
Queen of the roses round her!

Into her heart a canker crept,
Into her soul a sorrow;
Over her head the dew-drops wept,
"She will be dead to-morrow!"
But still a smile upon her cheek,
The morrow found her glowing
In crimson state, on all who seek
Her royal grace bestowing.
Queen of the garden still at noon,
Queen of the roses round her,
Not until eve the pallid moon
Dead in the garden found her!

Dead in the garden lay a rose,
Regal in rest they found her;

Smiling in death's august repose,
Queen of the roses round her!