112 CUPID AND THE DIAL. 
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It fell in those waters of briny taste, 
And the flowers were all wet through. 
Yet this is the wreath he wears night and 
day; 
And though it all sunny appears 
With Pleasure’s own lustre, each leaf, they 
say, 
Still tastes of the fountain of tears. 
—Mookk. 
CUPID AND THE DIAL. 
One day, young frolic Cupid tried 
To scatter roses o’er the hours, 
And on the dial’s face to hide 
The course of time with many flowers. 
By chance, his rosy wreaths had wound 
Upon the hands, and forced them on; 
And when he look’d again, he found 
The hours had pass’d, the time was gone. 
“ Alas !” said love, and dropp’d his flowers, 
“ I’ve lost my time in idle play ; 
The sweeter I would make the hours, 
The quicker they are pass’d away.” 
—Lanohorne. 
