How sweet how sweet are the roses,
And how we watch for their bloom;
We gather them in their glory,
And scatter them over the tomb
But weeds unheeded lift their head,
And in their stillness wave,
Like better friends in silent hours beside the lonely grave
How fair, how fair are the lilies;
How dear to the heart and the eye;
And how we wait for their beauty;
And gather them ere they die
But weeds alas, how sad it seems to pass them coldly by;
For they have buds and blossoms too,
And flower 'ere they die.