Had I known but yesterday
What I know today
I'd have taken out your two gray eyes
And put in eyes of clay,
And had I known but yesterday
That you'd be no more my own
I'd have taken out your heart of flesh
And put in one of stone.
O Rose, thou art sick.
The invisible worm
That flies in the night
In the howing storm
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Dose thy life destroy.