None Shall Weep a Tear for Me |
Richard Henry Wilde, 1860
My life is like the summer rose That opens to the morning sky, But, e'er the shades of evening close, Is scattered on the ground to die; Yet on the rose's humble head The sweetest dews of night are shed, As if they wept the waste to see, |: But none shall weep a tear for me, :| But none shall weep, shall weep a tear for me. | 2. My life is like the autumn leaf That trembles in the moons pale ray; Its hold is frail, its date is brief, 'Tis restless soon to pass away; Yet when that leaf shall fall and fade The parent tree will mourn its shade The winds bewail the leafless tree, |: But none shall breathe a sigh for me, :| But none shall breathe, shall breath a sigh for me. |