For they have taken my sweet love away.
“My Rose is gone and I am desolate.
Light of my eyes was she, now darkness reigns.
Both day and night I weep disconsolate.
My reason leaves me, and my spirit wanes.
“Was it the gardener took her away
And grieved my soul? If never more again
I should behold her face, what shall I say?
Instead of joy, I’ll sing of grief and pain.