TIME, LOVE, AND THE FLOWERS. 
Said Time, “ I cannot bear the flowers, 
They spoil the look of old decay ; 
They cover all my ruined towers, 
My fallen shrines, and abbeys grey: 
I’ll cut them down—why should they grow? 
I marvel Death upon his graves 
Allows so many buds to blow ! 
O’er all my works the Wallflower waves! — 
His scythe he sharpened as he spoke, 
And deeper frowned at every stroke. 
In vain did Beauty him entreat 
To spare the flowers, as on the ground 
She weeping knelt, and clasped his feet. 
He only turned his head half round, 
