78 
PRIMROSE, 
While Pleasure lights their laughing- 
eyes ■ 
With little hands a wreath combine. 
Their fugitive delights entwine, 
And boast their fragrant prize. 
Ah, happy breasts! unknown to pain, 
I would not spoil your joys ; 
Nor vainly teach you to complain 
Of life’s delusive toys : 
Be jocund still, still sport and smile. 
Nor dream of woe or future guile; 
For soon shall ye awaken’d find 
The joys of life’s sad thorny way 
But fading flowerets of a day, 
Cut down by every wind. 
The same. —c. lloyd. 
Come, simple floweret of the paly leaf! 
With yellow eye, and stalk of downy green. 
Though mild thy lustre, though thy days are 
brief. 
Oh, come and decorate my cottage scene ! 
For thee, I’ll rear a bank where softest moss 
And tenderest grass shall carelessly com¬ 
bine ; 
