A sweet young girl lay dying,
her true love by her side, she
whispered his name so softly; he
wept, he could not stem the tide.

But she gently forbade him
whispering "Do not weep so, for
I have a favor to ask you, one
promise before I go."

"I want no blanket of flowers
to cover my coffin, you see,
but promise you'll place there
a red rose to tell of your
love for me."

"I ask but a single red rose bud,
no bouquet nor wreath on a stand,
but, before they close the lid for
the last time, please, place that
rose in my hand."

He wished, at that moment, their
roles were reversed; he dying, she
strong and well still, but she
begged this last favor of him so
he promised to do her will.

"Now, hold me closely, my darling,
before they carry me from my bed."
As he kissed her gently, she
breathed her last sigh, in his arms
he cradled her head.

When the people gathered to say,
good-bye, he came to her casket
to stand, and, keeping his last
promise to her, he placed the rose
in her hand.

Covering her coffin with earth clay
caused a pain he could not abide,
until he caught the scent of the red
rose and knew she was by his side.

As the years rolled past and his
hair turned gray, he never was lonely
again, for often he caught that
fragrance so sweet and knew she was
still close to him.

Then, one evening, she came with
arms outstretched as she beckoned,
"It's time, Dear, to go."
He breathed his last breath and
followed her, through the years he
had loved her so.

When they found his cold body next
morning, his face set in peaceful
repose, someone said, "What's this?"
and on the floor, lay the petals of
a lovely red rose.