Oh wherefore are the roses wan,
Oh say, my Love, wherefore?
And wherefore the green grass upon
Blue violets breathe no more?

Oh wherefore sings the lark o'erhead
A song of such despair?
And why are death-like odours shed
From fragrant lavender?

Why gleams the sun so coldly bright
Upon the saddened lea?
The mournful earth in gray is dight,
'Tis like a grave to me.

Oh wherefore am I so sick and so drear,
Oh say, my Love, my own;
Oh say, my dearest, my heart's own dear,
Wherefore hast thou left me lone?