The Red Rose

The little red rose tapped at my window—
Tapped at my window long years ago;
Glad would I run then, trip to the shadow,
Who was in hiding well did I know.
Last night I, nodding, heard at the casement
Soft knock-a-knocking come on the pane.
"Hush! 'Tis the lost rose taps at my window—
Red rose, oh, sweet rose, come back again!"
Listless I moved then, laughed at my fancies—
Wept at my fancies of years ago.
Slow went a-seeking who was in hiding,
Who came a-tapping—how should I know?
Pushed wide the window, leaned to the silence—
"Red rose, oh, sweet rose, come back again!"
'Twas but a dead branch, broken and brown branch,
Soft knock-a-knocking there on the pane.