There Is a Flower

There is a flower that bloometh
When autumn leaves are shed
With the silent moon it weepeth
The spring and summer are fled
The early frost of winter
Near its brow doth hover
O pluck it ere it wither
'Tis the memory of the past
It was the perfume of
Which few can e'er forget
O'er the bright scenes gone before
How sweet the sad regret
Let not gravе its power
By guilty thoughts torture
For pluck it ere it wither
'Tis the memory of thе past