Roger Quilter - A Last Year's Rose
Sings exulting to the Rose;
Though he sees her waxing pale
In her passionate repose
While she triumphs waxing frail
Fading even while she glows;
Though he knows
How it goes -
Knows of last year's Nightingale
Dead with last year's Rose
Wise the enamoured Nightingale
Wise the well-beloved Rose!
Love and life shall still prevail
Nor the silеnce at the close
Brеak the magic of the tale
In the telling, though it shows -
Who but knows
How it goes!
Life a last year's Nightingale
Love a last year's Rose
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Roger Quilter - A Song at Parting
When I am dead, my dearest Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet;
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I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night When the winds are breathing low And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee And a spirit in
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Come unto these yellow sands And then take hands: Curtsied when you have and kissed The wild waves whist: Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen
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