Around the bend lies maiden bright,
In her heart lives darkest night,
A gift, she claims, from her love so sweet,
Too far away was he to meet.
Shimmering apparition of days gone by,
Enter the mind in heaving sigh,
Along he comes from traveling road,
Whisp! gone again with none to hold.
"This rose," she cries with broken heart,
"Will be my gift to thee, so art,
Thou with me still, or will thou leave,
In melancholy chest my heart to bleed?"
Upon the setting of the cresent moon,
Light upon blade flashes in tune,
To the beating of a broken promise,
She takes to her death's perfect kiss.