TO A BUNCH OF FLOWERS. 
41 
Though your life is but a day 
Precious things, dear flowers, you say, 
Telling that the Being good 
Who supplies our daily food, 
Deems it needful to supply 
Daily food for heart and eye. 
So, though your life is but a day, 
We grieve not at your swift decay ; 
He, who smiles in your bright faces, 
Sends us more to take your places ; 
’Tis for this ye fade so soon, 
That he may renew the boon : 
That kindness often may repeat 
These mute messages so sweet. 
That Love to plainer speech may get 
Conning oft his alphabet; 
That beauty may be rain’d from heave«, 
New with every morn and even, 
With freshest fragrance sunrise greeting : 
Therefore are ye, flowers, so fleeting. 
