And looked at the sky so blue.
Remember, remember, thou silly one,
How fast will thy Summer glide,
And wilt thou wither a virgin pale,
Or flourish a blooming bride?
“O the Rose is old, and thorny, and cold,
And he lives on earth,” said she;
“But the Star is fair and he lives in the air.
And he shall my bridegroom be.”
But what if the stormy cloud should come,