FLORA AND THALIA. 35 



Fresh in the morn, the summer rose 



Hangs withering ere 'tis noon ; 

 We scarce enjoy the balmy gift, 



But mourn the pleasure gone. 



With gliding fire, an evening star 



Streaks the autumnal skies ; . 

 Shook from the sphere, it darts away, 



And in an instant dies. 



Such are the charms that flush the cheek, 



And sparkle in the eye ; 

 So from the lovely finish'd form. 



The transient graces fly. 



To this the seasons as they roll, 



Their attestation bring ; 

 They warn the fair ; their every round 



Confirm the truth I sing. 



HERVEY. 



CHOICE OF SEASONS. 



Who loves not Spring's voluptuous hours, 

 The carnival of birds and flowers 1 

 Yet who \vould choose, however dear. 

 That Spring should revel all the year 1 



