Within the courtyard of my home br There grows a rose-tree fair. br The passers-by all envy me br Those roses bright and rare! br br In every rose there is a grief! br Some dexterous knife indeed br Seems to have pierced a thousand hearts; br The sunlight makes them bleed. br br Like tears appear the dewdrops clear br It wears at break of day. br Who knows the mysteries it hides, br Of which it naught may say? br br Its color and its perfume strange br Thrill to the bosom's core; br He who has once that fragrance breathed br Forgets it nevermore. br br The fairest daughter of the Czar br Asked for my roses red br To weave a rich triumphal wreath br To crown her father's head. br br 'Pardon, your Highness, but my flowers br I could not bear to see br Adorn a chain to strangle men br Aspiring to be free.' br br An elegant, proud Cardinal br For roses asked one day, br Upon his altar and his board br Their beauty to display. br br 'Your Eminence, excuse me, pray! br I did not nurse their grace br To make a table's garland bright, br Or deck an altar-place.' br br With sad tears running down her cheeks, br To bitter grief a prey, br A maiden with an angel's heart br Came to my door today. br br 'Give me two roses, only two!' br She pleaded sighing deep; br 'They will make sweet the lowly grave br Where lies my love asleep!' br br Without a word, while fast as hers br My tears began to fall, br For that sweet maiden in her grief br I plucked my roses all. br br To bring her ruddy offering br She flew with footstep light; br And straightway on my rose-tree bloomed br A myriad roses white.