The bridesmaids slept in their chambers apart:
_There is a rose that’s ready_;
Tall Margaret walked with her thumping heart:
_There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping_.
The frill of her nightgown below the left breast:
_There is a rose that’s ready_;
Had fall’n like a cloud of the moonlighted West:
_There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping_.
But where the West-cloud breaks to a star:
_There is a rose that’s ready_;
Pale Margaret’s breast showed a winding scar:
_There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping_.
O few are the brides with such a sign!
_There is a rose that’s ready_;
Though I went mad the fault was mine:
_There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping_.
I must speak to him under this roof to-night:
_There is a rose that’s ready_;
I shall burn to death if I speak in the light:
_There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping_.
O my breast! I must strike you a bloodier wound:
_There is a rose that’s ready_;
Than when I scored you red and swooned:
_There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping_.
I will stab my honour under his eye:
_There is a rose that’s ready_;
Though I bleed to the death, I shall let out the lie:
_There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping_.
O happy my bridesmaids! white sleep is with you!
_There is a rose that’s ready_;
Had he chosen among you he might sleep too!
_There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping_.
O happy my bridesmaids! your breasts are clean:
_There is a rose that’s ready_;
You carry no mark of what has been!
_There’s a rose that’s ready for clipping_.