The crimson rose sits upon my shelf, br With petals of velvet so fine, br And waits for the day it is bestowed, br Upon the love of mine, br The sun's rays fall so gracefully upon, br Its stem, so full of thorns, br And whispers to me, such songs of sorrow, br When I happen to mourn, br And yet one day as I check my shelf, br To see its beauty once again, br I find a withered black stem, br Bent, and broken, br I stare in horror as I realise, br That I have hurt one I hold so dear, br And may have caused her feelings for me, br To change, or disappear, br I cry, ashamed and realised, br That part of heart knows, br I can never truly forgive myself for, br The death of my rose.