A warrior rests peacefully
By a great old tree
He seems so sad and lonely
His face has no hint of glee.
The winter snow is soft and white,
And as the cold wind soughs,
The warrior looks to his side and sees
A dying wilted rose.
A tear falls from his eye
And he tries to turn away,
But finds it near impossible
Much to his dismay.
Finally he falls asleep
And has a peaceful dream
He finds he is sitting on the shore
Of a gurgling stream.
The warrior looks up and sees
A gentle maiden sitting there
Her expression is very calm
And her complexion fair.
She says "Martin, you brave mouse,
Why do you sit and weep?
I have not gone from you,
And our love I'll keep."
Martin whispers quietly
"Oh, Rose my friend,
I wish I could sit with you
Until my life does end."
The maiden smiles and says
So very wistfully,
"Wake up and live your life!
Just do it for me!"
The warrior stirs and looks up high
Wishing for things he can't conceive
With the memory of his one love,
He picks up his sword and starts to leave.
As he turns, the warrior thinks
Of the dream he can't comprehend
He looks back one last time,
To see that the rose had grown again.
By a great old tree
He seems so sad and lonely
His face has no hint of glee.
The winter snow is soft and white,
And as the cold wind soughs,
The warrior looks to his side and sees
A dying wilted rose.
A tear falls from his eye
And he tries to turn away,
But finds it near impossible
Much to his dismay.
Finally he falls asleep
And has a peaceful dream
He finds he is sitting on the shore
Of a gurgling stream.
The warrior looks up and sees
A gentle maiden sitting there
Her expression is very calm
And her complexion fair.
She says "Martin, you brave mouse,
Why do you sit and weep?
I have not gone from you,
And our love I'll keep."
Martin whispers quietly
"Oh, Rose my friend,
I wish I could sit with you
Until my life does end."
The maiden smiles and says
So very wistfully,
"Wake up and live your life!
Just do it for me!"
The warrior stirs and looks up high
Wishing for things he can't conceive
With the memory of his one love,
He picks up his sword and starts to leave.
As he turns, the warrior thinks
Of the dream he can't comprehend
He looks back one last time,
To see that the rose had grown again.
