Day of my love and my may, After the long years' flight, Born on the King's birthday, Born for my heart's delight, With the dawn of the roses white!

Black as the blackbird's wing Is her hair, and her brow as white As the white rose blossoming, And her eyes as the falcon's bright And her heart is leal to the right.

When shall the joy bells ring? When shall the hours unite The right with the might of my King, And my heart with my heart's delight; In the dawn, in the day, in the night?

'Twas a day of faith and flowers, Of honour that could not die, Of Hope that counted the hours, Of sorrowing Loyalty: And the Blackbird sang in the closes, The Blackbird piped in the spring, For the day of the dawn of the Roses, The dawn of the day of the King!

White roses over the heather, And down by the Lowland lea, And far in the faint blue weather, A white sail guessed on the sea! But the deep night gathers and closes, Shall ever a morning bring The lord of the leal white roses, The face of the rightful King?

Red roses under the sun For the King who is lord of land; But he dies when his day is done, For his memory careth none When the glass runs empty of sand.

White roses under the moon For the King without lands to give; But he reigns with the reign of June, With the rose and the Blackbird's tune, And he lives while Faith shall live.

Red roses for beef and beer; Red roses for wine and gold; But they drank of the water clear, In exile and sorry cheer, To the kings of our sires of old.

(Editor：library)