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She lifts her head for endless spring,For everlasting blossoming!Both Roses flourish, Red and White.In love and sisterly delightThe two that were at strife are blended,And all old sorrows now are ended.—Joy! joy to both! but most to herWho is the Flower of Lancaster!Behold her how She smiles to dayOn this great throng, this bright array!Fair greeting doth she send to allFrom every corner of the Hall;But, chiefly, from above the BoardWhere sits in state our rightful Lord,A Clifford to his own restored.
They came with banner, spear, and shield;And it was proved in Bosworth-field.
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