Frühe Gedichte -- Heidenröslein -- Rose of Morning’s Bed

    Rose of Morning’s Bed

Saw a boy a little rose

fresh as morning dew.

Quick he ran to see it close,

to see it shine, this lovely rose

among the wild shoots.

Rose, oh rose, oh little rose red,

little rose of morning’s bed.

Said the boy, “I’ll pinch you off,

rose of wild flowers.”

Said the rose, “I’ll prick your hands

with wild thorns and you will yield,

and you alone will suffer.”

Rose, oh rose, oh little rose red,

little rose of morning’s bed.

And still the boy broke the rose,

morning’s wild rose,

for no pain would stop him.

And for this he suffered eternal,

and so suffered too, the rose.

Rose, oh rose, oh little rose red,

little rose of morning’s wild bed.