276 
POPULAR TALES OF FLOWERS 
In vain did Beauty him entreat 
To spare the flowers, as on the ground 
She weeping knelt, and clasped his feet. 
He only turned his head half round. 
And sternly bade her go her way. 
Said Time, “Were all the world to plead, 
They should not live another day. 
No, not if Death did intercede!” — 
He took his scythe, and at one sweep 
The flowers became a withered heap. 
Time came again, and so did Spring; 
The spot once more with flowers was strown ; 
He scarce could see a ruined thing. 
So tall and thick the buds had grown. 
“ Oh, oh I” said Time, “ I must upturn. 
Dig deep, and cover in like Death ; 
Idl not leave one behind to mourn. 
Or sweeten more the breeze’s breath ; 
Full fathom five I’ll lay them low, 
Then leave them, if they can, to grow 1” 
Summer met Time in that same place; 
It looked more lovely than of old. 
For there had sprung another race 
Of flowers from out the upturned mould. 
Which had been buried long ago. 
“ How’s this?” said Time, and rubbed his eyes. 
I have laid many a city low, 
But never more saw turret rise.” — 
Love at that moment chanced to pass; 
He touched Time’s arm, and shook his glass. 
“Old man,” said Love, “the flowers are mine; 
Leave them alone, and go thy way — 
Destruction is the work of thine, 
’Tis mine to beautify decay. 
Is’t not enough that thou hast power 
To lay both youth and beauty low ; 
But thou must envy the poor flower 
Which scarce a day sees in full blow? 
I’ve seen thee smile on them for hours!” 
’Tis true,” said Time, and spared the flowers. 
