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THE MORAL OF FLOWERS. 
But stern realities since then 
Have long such idle musings banish’d ; 
And at their touch the lonely glen 
And jasmine-shaded bower have vanish d; 
For I have seen the dark grave close 
O’er some I loved, perchance too blindly, 
And others, who once utter’d vows 
Of changeless friendship, look less kindly ; 
Still learning, with my added years. 
That life has fewer smiles than tears. 
But though wild fancy never more 
Such fond conceits from thee may borrow, 
Yet still I love thee, sweetest flower, 
E’en for the hints thou yield’st to sorrow: 
Flowers that do bend all meek and pale 
When storms arise, submission teach me; 
But when upon eve’s chilly gale 
I feel thy choicest odours reach me, 
Thou show’st me more than how to bend, 
Yea, with submission praise to blend. 
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