Down Where the Roses

Above my head, the seasons slowly pass -

The winds of Autumn whistle past my door;

The pale gold leaves of poplar gild the grass;

The snows of Winter fall, just as before...

Above my head, the seasons slowly pass;

No more, of April, do the quick tears start -

Down where the roses have their dark beginnings,

You lie, that were all sunlight to my heart...