Sweet Sara sweet Sara will silken sauve
Comes and lounges in my sundry garden.
Her hair a chestnut tree her eyes set in mauve,
Many a story we utter together of battles and royal pardons.
And grow old with the fleeting summers day,
And sink satisfied to slumber certain for tomorrow,
There will be another afternoon with more to say,
And the world set fixed in its ways will never move to sorrow.
Sweet Sara sweet Sara speaks wonderful words,
And spends her time with me, another lives mystery,
Hath once again struck in me a chord,
And hath set aflame my misery.

My garden shall grow old and wilt away,
But her beauty, aged and refined shall stay.