My life is like the summer rose
That opens to the morning sky
But ere, the shades of evening close
Is scattered on the ground - to die!

Good-by, My Fancy!
Farewell, Dear Mate, Dear Love!
I'm going away, I know not where,
Or to what fortune
Or whether I may ever see you again

when hearts, whose truth was proven
Like thine, are laid in earth
There should a wreath be woven
To tell the world their world