I will stab my honour under his eye: 
     There is a rose that’s ready;
     Though I bleed to the death, I shall let out the lie: 
     There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping.

     O happy my bridesmaids! white sleep is with you! 
     There is a rose that’s ready;
     Had he chosen among you he might sleep too! 
     There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping.

     O happy my bridesmaids! your breasts are clean: 
     There is a rose that’s ready;
     You carry no mark of what has been! 
     There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping.

     IV

     An hour before the chilly beam: 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     The bridegroom started out of a dream: 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     He went to the door, and there espied: 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     The figure of his silent bride: 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     He went to the door, and let her in: 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     Whiter looked she than a child of sin: 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     She looked so white, she looked so sweet: 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     She looked so pure he fell at her feet: 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     He fell at her feet with love and awe: 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     A stainless body of light he saw: 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     O Margaret, say you are not of the dead! 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     My bride! by the angels at night are you led? 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     I am not led by the angels about: 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     But I have a devil within to let out: 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     O Margaret! my bride and saint! 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     There is on you no earthly taint: 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     I am no saint, and no bride can I be: 
     Red rose and while in the garden;
     Until I have opened my bosom to thee: 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     To catch at her heart she laid one hand: 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     She told the tale where she did stand: 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     She stood before him pale and tall: 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     Her eyes between his, she told him all: 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     She saw how her body grow freckled and foul: 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     She heard from the woods the hooting owl: 
     And the bird sings over the roses.

     With never a quiver her mouth did speak: 
     Red rose and white in the garden;
     O when she had done she stood so meek! 
     And the bird sings over the roses.