




















S 
> THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
\| Dissembling what I knew too well, \| whe 
My love, my life, said I, explain 
This change of humour: pr’ythee tell: | 
That falling tear—what does it mean ? 
| 
| 
| 
i She sigh’d: she smiled: and to the flowera 
| Pointing, the lovely moralist said— 
| See, friend, in some few fleeting hours, | 
See yonder, what a change is made. | 
| 
\| Ah me! the blooming pride of May, 
| And that of beauty, are but one: 
At morn both flourish bright and gay ; 
Both fade at evening, pale, and gone. 
| At dawn poor Stella danced and sung, 
|| The amorous youth around her bow d: 
| At night her fatal knell was rung ; 
I saw, and kiss’d her in her shroud. | 
Such as she is, who died to-day, 
Such I, alas! may be to-morrow 3 
Go, Damon, bid the Muse display | 
The justice of thy Chloe’s sorrow. 

