THE WINTER NOSEGAY. 69 
This change of humour : pr’ythee tell: 
That falling tear—what does it mean 1 
She sigh’d: she smiled: and to the flowers 
Pointing, the lovely moralist said— 
See, friend, in some few fleeting hours, 
See yonder, what a change is made. 
Ah me! the blooming pride of May, 
And that of beauty, are but one : 
At morn both flourish bright and gay ; 
Both fade at evening, pale, and gone. 
At dawn poor Stella danced and sung, 
The amorous youth around her bow’d: 
At night her fatal knell was rung ; 
I saw, and kiss’d her in her shroud. 
Such as she is, who died to-day, 
Such I, alas ! may be to-morrow ; 
Go, Damon, bid the Muse display 
The justice of thy Chloe’s sorrow. 
—Prior. 
THE WINTER NOSEGAY. 
What nature, alas! has denied 
To the delicate growth of our isle. 
