Roisin Dubh

Everyone knows that a rose will fade, 
(Sure I knew, too!) 
So why would I be a whit dismayed 
When you died, Roisin dubh? 
For a day and a night and a morrow 
The bloom of you — 
Then death: and what use of sorrow 
For a rose, Roisin dubh? 

Yet, little black rose, so dear you were, 
So sweet you grew, 
And your stem is sad now you are not there, 
And your leaves, Roisin dubh! 
O little black rose, my soul I'd give, 
(My body, too!) 
For a day, for an hour, that you might live 
On your bush, Roisin dubh! 

Sweet, sweet, till the world was glad for you, 
And kinder, too — 
Now your bush and your world are sad for you, 
Roisin dubh!