aren en A Rie ur eRe @ i 2 
THE POSTRY OF FLC WERS, 135 

FILLED WITH MORNING DEW. 
BY HERRICK. 
Wy dc ye weep, swe t babes? Can tears 
Speak grief in oi 1, 
Who were but born 
Just as the modest morn 
Teem ’d her refreshing dew ! 
Alas! ye I = ve not known that shower 
That mars a flower ; 
Nor felt the unkind 
Breath of a blasting wind ; 
Nor are ye worn with years; 
Or warp’d as we, 
Who think it strange to see 
Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young, 
Speaking by tears before ye have a tongue. 
J 


Speak, whimpering younglings, and make knowa 
The reason why 
Ye droop and weep. 
Is it for want of sleep, 
Or childish lullaby ? 
Or that ye have not seen as yet 
The violet 
Or stag) nt a kiss 
From chat sweetheart to this 

