The Man from Snowy River

A Bunch of Roses

   Roses ruddy and roses white,
    What are the joys that my heart discloses?
   Sitting alone in the fading light
   Memories come to me here to-night
    With the wonderful scent of the big red roses.

   Memories come as the daylight fades
    Down on the hearth where the firelight dozes;
   Flicker and flutter the lights and shades,
   And I see the face of a queen of maids
    Whose memory comes with the scent of roses.

   Visions arise of a scene of mirth,
    And a ball-room belle that superbly poses —
   A queenly woman of queenly worth,
   And I am the happiest man on earth
    With a single flower from a bunch of roses.

   Only her memory lives to-night —
    God in His wisdom her young life closes;
   Over her grave may the turf be light,
   Cover her coffin with roses white —
    She was always fond of the big white roses.

       .   .   .   .   .

   Such are the visions that fade away —
    Man proposes and God disposes;
   Look in the glass and I see to-day
   Only an old man, worn and grey,
    Bending his head to a bunch of roses.