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153 
The Tuberose, with her silvery light, 
That in the gardens of Malay 
Is called the mistress of the night, 
So like a bride, scented and bright, 
She comes out when the sun’s away. 
Moore. 
If all the world and love were young, 
And truth in every shepherd’s tongue, 
These pleasures might my passions move, 
To live with thee and be thy love. 
So fading flowers in every field, 
To winter floods their treasures yield; 
A honeyed tongue, a heart of gall, 
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall. 
Sir Walter Raleigh. 
Instability and change are written 
On us and all our works. The loveliest things, 
When full of promise, oftentimes are smitten; 
And sweetest roses foster hidden stings. 
The world, if loved too well, doth ever pall, 
And the poor fool who set his heart thereon 
Is doomed to see his hope in ruins fall, 
Its frail foundation undermined and gone. 
MacKellar. 
