TO BLOSSOMS 



FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree, 



Why do ye fall so fast ? 



Your date is not so past 

 But you may stay yet here awhile 



To blush and gently smile, 

 And go at last. 



What ! were ye born to be 



An hour or half s delight, 



And so to bid good-night ? 

 'Twas pity Nature brought you forth 



Merely to show your worth, 

 And lose you quite. 



But you are lovely leaves, where we 

 May read how soon things have 

 Their end, though ne'er so brave : 



And after they have shown their pride 

 Like you awhile, they glide 

 Into the grave. 



ROBERT HERRICK, 



4? 



