  WE plucked a red rose, you and I, All in the summer weather. Sweet its perfume and rare its bloom, Enjoyed by us together. The rose is dead, the summer fled, And bleak winds are complaining; We dwell apart, but in each heart We find the thorn remaining. We sipped a sweet wine, you and I, All in the summer weather. The beaded draught we lightly quaffed, And filled the glass together. Together watched its rosy glow, And saw its bubbles glitter; Apart, alone, we only know The lees are very bitter. We walked in sunshine, you and I, All in the summer weather. The very night seemed noonday bright When we two were together. O’er hill and vale and meadow There fell such shade, our paths seemed laid Forevermore in shadow. We dreamed a sweet dream, you and I, All in the summer weather, Where rose and wine and warm sunshine Were mingled in together. We dreamed that June was with us yet, We woke to find December. We dreamed that we two could forget, We woke but to remember. |
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