SK me why I send you 
here, 
This firstling of the in¬ 
fant year, 
Ask me why r send to 
you 
This primrose all bepearl’d 
with dew, 
I straight will whisper in your 
ears, 
: sweets of love are wash’d with 
tears. 
: me why this flower doth show 
So yellow, green, and sickly too; 
Ask me why the stalk is weak, 
And bending, yet it doth not break ; 
I must tell you, these discover 
What doubts and fears are in a lover. 
Carew. 
j^IMROSE - 
YOUTH. 
