There’s a bower of roses by Bendemeer’s stream
And the nightingale sings round it all the day long
In the time of my childhood ’twas like a sweet dream
To sit in the roses and hear the bird’s song
That bower and ist musik I never forget
But of when alone in the bloom of the year
I think: "Is the nightingale singing there yet?
Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer?"

No the roses soon wither’d that hung o’er the wave
But some blossoms were gather’d while freshly they shone
And the dew was distill’d from their flowers they gave
All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone
Thus memory draws from delight ere it dies
An essence that breathes of it many a year
Thus bright to my soul as ’twas then to my eyes
Is that hower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer

Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer?