A non. 
AT OW departs day’s garish light— 
^ Beauteous flower, lift thy head! 
Rise upon the brow of night! 
Haste, thy transient lustre shed ! 
Night has dropped her dusky veil— 
All vain thoughts be distant far, 
While, with silent awe, we hail 
Flora’s radiant evening star. 
See to life her beauties start; 
Hail, thou glorious, matchless flower I 
Much thou sayest to the heart 
In the solemn, fleeting hour. 
Ere we have our homage paid, 
Thou wilt bow thine head and die; 
Thus our sweetest pleasures fade, 
Thus our brightest blessings fly. 
