66 
FLORAL POESY. 
No, ’tis alone the pang to part 
With those we love, that rends the heart 
That agony to save, 
Some nameless cause in nature strives ; 
Like thee in shades, our hope revives. 
And blossoms in the grave. 
TO PRIMROSES. 
ROBERT HERRICK. 
Why do ye weep, sweet babes ? can tears 
Speak grief in you, 
Who were but born 
Just as the modest morn 
Teemed her refreshing dew ? 
Alas ! you have not known that shower 
That mars a flower ; 
Nor felt the unkind 
Breath of a blasting wind ; 
Nor are ye worn with years ; 
Or warped as we 
Who think it strange to see 
Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young, 
Speaking by tears before ye have a tongue. 
Speak, whimpering younglings, and make known 
The reason why 
Ye droop and weep ; 
Is it for want of sleep, 
Or childish lullaby ? 
Or that ye have not seen as yet 
The violet ? 
Or brought a kiss 
From that sweetheart to this ? 
