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.
Red roses for wealth and might;
White roses for hopes that flee;
And the dreams of the day and the night,
For the Lord of our heart’s delight—
For the King that is o’er the sea.