Midst the frosty, wintry silence there was heard a little moan.
And a little child is asking at the brea-----k of the day,
Will the roses bloom in heaven? Tell me, Mama, tell me pray.
CHORUS:
Will the roses bloom in heaven, are there any gardens there?
Any violets and clover way up with the angels fair?
Will the branches fill with blossoms, and in winter fill with snow?
Will the roses bloom in Heaven? Tell me, Mama, 'ere I go.
2. Now the room grows light and lighter, everything has caught a glow.
Heaven seems to stretch about her while dream faces come and go.
Then she whispered," Birds are singing songs of melody,
And I see the roses blooming, while the angels beckon me."
3. Then Mother whispered, "In the land so bright and fair,
Where the roses will be blooming, there will be no parting there.
Good-bye my little darling, for death is lingering near."
And on the little pale face there was not one trace of fear.
CHORUS: