PRIMROSE. 
79 
THE PRIMROSE. 
MRS. HUNTER. 
The sun declines, his parting ray, 
Shall bear the cheerful light away, 
And on the landscape close : 
Then will I seek the lonely vale, 
Where sober evening’s primrose pale 
To greet the night star blows. 
Soft melancholy bloom, to thee 
I turn, with conscious sympathy, 
Like thee my hour is come; 
When length’ning shadows slowly fade, 
Till lost in universal shade, 
They sink beneath the tomb. 
By thee I’ll sit, and inly muse, 
What are the charms in life we lose 
When time demands our breath. 
Alas ! the load of lengthened age 
Has little can our wish engage, 
Or point the shaft of death. 
No, ’tis alone the pang to part 
With those we love, that rends the heart; 
That agony to save, 
Some nameless cause in nature strives; 
Like thee in shades, our hope revives, 
And blossoms in the grave. 
