On its bending stalk a bonny flower
In a yeoman's home-close grew
It had gathered beauty from sunshine & shower
From moonlight & silent dew
Till the tufted leaves of the garden bower
Like a star it sparkled through

It was a little budding rose
Round like a fairy globe
And shyly did its leaves unclose
Hid in their mossy robe
But sweet was the slight & spicy smell
It breathed from its heart invisible

Keenly his flower the yeoman guarded
He watched it by day & by night
From the frost from the wind from the storm he warded
That flush of roseate light
And ever it glistened bonnilie
Under the shade of the old roof-tree

The morning sunshine had called him forth
His garden was full of dew
And green light slept on the happy earth
And the sky was calm & blue
The yeoman looked for his lovely flower
There were leaves, but no buds in the sheltring bower

The rose was borne to another land
& grew in another bed
It was cultured by another hand
And it sprung & flourished
And fairer it budded day by day
Beneath a new sun's cheering ray

But long lies the dew on its crimson leaves
It almost looks like tears
The flower for the yeoman's home-close grieves
Amid a King's parterres
Little moss-rose cease to weep
Let regret & sorrow sleep

The rose is blasted withered blighted
Its root has felt a worm
And like a heart, beloved & slighted
Failed, faded, shrunk its form
Bud of beauty bonnie flower
I stole thee from thy natal bower
I was the worm that withered thee
Thy tears of dew all fell for me
Leaf & stalk & rose are gone
Exile earth they died upon
Yes that last breath of thy faint balmy scent
God with alien breezes sadly blent