My stone-cold heart has trained to never love;

Or so I like to let my father think;

And yet she found what I'd been lacking of

And gifted me with roses red and pink.

Imagine! Me! In love with mousy-girl,

Amidst the roses, we two often walk;

In the hell of my life, she's been a precious pearl;

My feelings grow the more we laugh and talk.

The sound of her voice comforts my bitter mind,

And to her spell of love I do submit.

Amazing, in my wretched self she'd find

The good which even I could not admit.

And yet I must keep her a secret, my darling rose,

Of this weakness of mine, HE must never know.