Where the wilderness dwells a rose

Where the wilderness dwells a rose, pretty red
in likeness prose

Upon my lips it's dwells a word, such things your ears have never heard

I speak of love not as a river, not as a stone
Nor a feather fallen

But as a beacon of my heart, loud this love come calling

And to my heart which beating goes , flows of red a similar way

To how the wilderness keeps this rose
Wilder more by day

Wilder than a spoken dream, beyond that river
Sort to gleam

And in my thoughts go
Hand in hand
by any of means

So as to call a garden wild, one rose had picked the truthful eye

And to my heart would skip a beat without you love would die.