







854 SUR LA MORT D’UNE JEUNE FILLE. 
Then die! that she 
The common fate of all things rare 
May read in thee; 
How small a part of time they share, 
That are so wondrous sweet and fair! 
(Additional stanza by H. K. White.) 
Yet, though thou fade, 
From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise, 
And teach the maid, 
That Goodness, Time’s rude hand defies, 
And Virtue lives, when Beauty dies, 
Suv lx Mort une jeune Fille. 
Malesherbes. 
Elle etait de ce monde, ot les plus belles choses 
Ont le pire destin ! 
Et rose—elle a vécu ce que vivent les roses— 
L’espace d’un matin. 

