Letra de Where All Roses Go

He shall not hear the bittern cry In the wild sky, where he is lain Nor voices of the sweeter birds Above the wailing of the rain Nor shall he know when loud March blows Thro' slanting snows his fanfare shrill Blowing to flame the golden cup Of many's the upset daffodil Soon the swallows will be flying south The winds wheel north to gather in the snow Even the roses split on youth's red mouth Will soon blow down the road all roses go But when the dark cow leaves the moor And pastures poor with greedy weeds Perhaps he'll hear her low at morn Lifting her horn in pleasant meads Soon the swallows will be flying south The winds wheel north to gather in the snow Even the roses split on youth's red mouth Will soon blow down the road all roses go 1