The Man from Snowy River, by A. B. Paterson

A Bunch of Roses

Roses ruddy and roses white,

  What are the joys that my heart discloses?

Sitting alone in the fading light

Memories come to me here to-night

  With the wonderful scent of the big red roses.

Memories come as the daylight fades

  Down on the hearth where the firelight dozes;

Flicker and flutter the lights and shades,

And I see the face of a queen of maids

  Whose memory comes with the scent of roses.

Visions arise of a scene of mirth,

  And a ball-room belle that superbly poses —

A queenly woman of queenly worth,

And I am the happiest man on earth

  With a single flower from a bunch of roses.

Only her memory lives to-night —

  God in His wisdom her young life closes;

Over her grave may the turf be light,

Cover her coffin with roses white —

  She was always fond of the big white roses.

       . . . . .

Such are the visions that fade away —

  Man proposes and God disposes;

Look in the glass and I see to-day

Only an old man, worn and grey,

  Bending his head to a bunch of roses.

Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 11:59