Nobody knows this little Rose—

Nobody knows this little rose;

It might a pilgrim be,

Did I not take it from the ways,

And lift it up to thee!

Only a bee will miss it;

Only a butterfly,

Hastening from far journey,

On its breast to lie.

Only a bird will wonder;

Only a breeze will sigh;

Ah! little rose, how easy

For such as thou to die!