The fallen petals of the rose,
The fallen feathers of the dove,
And the time of swiftly-falling snows,
Are strewn on the tomb of Love.
A shroud of soft and silent snows
Covers his body - he is dead:
The fallen petals of the rose,
Are strewn about his head.
And yet Love died before the rose,
Long ere the snows began to fall;
And now, the soft white silent snows
Become his funeral pall.