108 
SPARE MY FLOWER. 
SPARE MY FLOWER. 
Oh spare my flower, my gentle flower, 
The slender creature of a day ' 
Let it bloom out its little hour, 
And pass away. 
So soon its fleeting charms must lie 
Decay’d unnoticed, overthrown; 
Oh hasten not its destiny, 
Too like thy own. 
The breeze will roam this way to-morrow, 
And sigh to find its playmate gone : 
The bee will come its sweets to borrow, 
And meet with none. 
Oh spare ! and let it still outspread 
Its beauties to the passing eye. 
And look up from its lowly bed, 
Upon the sky. 
Oh spare my flower! thou know’st not what 
Thy undiscerning hand would tear ; 
A thousand charms thou notest not, 
Lie treasured there. 
