


















d be ny 
strung) 
59, 
bliss 
] 
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se, 
t done 
at ley 
wwreall 
athed 
leep; 
THE POcTRY OF FLOWERS. 
TO PRIMROSES 
FILLED WITH MORNING DEW. 
BY HERRICK. 
Wy dc ye weep, sweet babes? Can tea: 
Speak grief in you, 
Who were but born 
Just as the modest morn 
T'eem’d her refreshing dew ! 
Alas! ye have 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. 
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 brought a kiss 
From ‘nat sweetheart to thie? 



