As he mounts the sunset hill
Where the Guelder roses blow
With their drifts of summer snow,
I can hear him, like one dazed
At a phantom he has raised,
Murmur o'er and o'er again,
"Guendolen, Guendolen!"
And thus every year, I know,
When the Guelder roses blow,
Love will wander by my door,