104 FLORAL POESY. 
When true hearts lie wither’d. 
And fond ones are flown, 
Oh ! who would inhabit 
This cold world alone ? 
GATHER YOUR ROSES. 
ANTHOLOGIA OXONINESIS. 
Live while you live, my boys ! 
Yet while the lamp doth shine ; 
Gather your roses 
Ere they decline. 
Man makes himself both cares and pains 
He seeks for thorns, and thorns he gams 
But lets, alas ! unheeded pass 
The violet in his way. 
Live while you live, my boys ! 
Yet while the lamp doth shine ; 
Gather your roses 
Ere they decline. 
ODE. 
ANACREON (TRANSLATED BV MOORE.) 
Buds of roses, virgin flowers 
Culled from Cupid’s balmy bowers, 
In the bowl of Bacchus steep, 
Till with crimson drops they weep ! 
