While The Billy BoilsSearchO Red Rose of June,Like a lingering emberFrom fires of DecemberRekindled for boon,When a wild afternoonLike a grey ghost goes glidingAnd creeping and hidingFrom a sorrowful moon —A reproachful white moon!
O Red Rose of pain,Like the last spark that flashesFrom smouldering ashesOf love on the wane!Thro’ the pitiless rain,And the wind’s wistful sobbingA dead march is throbbingAgain and again,And for ever again.
O Red Rose new born,Like a scimitar flamingAnd flashing and shamingLife’s fear and its scorn,Levin love-lilt new tornFrom storm-torrents sweepingFrom fountain heads leapingFrom lips of the morn —Of Hope’s evergreen morn!
Rekindled for boon,When the genii of sorrowsOf all the to-morrowsCombine and communeIn a wild rebel rune,Bright symbol and token! —Full foreword fain spoken! —O Red Rose of June!Brave Red Rose of June!