A rose is most perfect of all;
Explain then to me, how perfection can be,
When you’re not a rose at all?
We long for the roses, as slowly it grows,
So longed I for your caress;
And now you’re my shoulder, you’re part of my life,
I know not why I am so blessed.
A rose fills the room, as it starts to bloom,
With splendor, and beauty, and grace;
Such fullness I’ve found when ‘er you’re around
I melt from your tender embrace.
A rose is a rose and every one knows,
Another can never it be;
So too my love, whose given his life,
To care for me and my soul.