"How Sweet Are the Roses" (1853)
by Septimus Winner, 1827-1902
(aka Alice Hawthorne)

1.
How sweet, How sweet are the roses
And how we watch their bloom;
We gather them in their glory
And scatter them over the tomb.
But weeds unheeded lift their heads,
And in their stillness wave
Like better friends in silent hours
Beside the lonely grave.

2.
How fair, how fair are the lilies;
How dear to the heart and the eye;
And how we wait for their beauty
And gather them 'ere they die;
But weeds, Alas, how sad it seems
To pass them coldly by,
For they have buds and blossoms too,
And flower 'ere they die.

3.
Alas, alas how they perish
And pass with summer away;
The Rose, the Weed and the Lily
Beside each other decay;
But weeds must bud and blossom too,
And flower 'ere they die,
Then pluck them not in cold disgust
And [cast?] them from the eye.