Classic Poem

White little hands, white face, white rose!
Though roses bloom of brighter hue,
Thou art the only flower that blows
Summer and winter through.

White flower, white rose, how well they chose
Who culled thee, flower of death!
Thy thorn is in our heart, white rose,
Thy sweetness dims our breath.

Tears drop upon thy leaves, white rose!
Tears are their only dew;
As fits the only flower that blows
Summer and winter through.