160

LIFE AND THE FLOWERS.

LIFE AND THE FLOWERS.

I MADE a posy while the day ran by: "Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band."

But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they
By noon most cunningly did steal away,

And withered in my hand.

My hand was next to them, and then my heart.
I took, without more thinking, in good part
Time's gentle admonition;

Who did so sweetly death's sad taste convey,
Making my mind to smell my fatal day,
Yet sugaring the suspicion.

Farewell, dear flow'rs! sweetly your time ye spent;
Fit, while ye lived, for smell or ornament;
And after death, for cures.

I follow straight, without complaints or grief;
Since, if my scent be good, I care not if

It be as short as yours.

G. Herbert.

TO BLOSSOMS.

161

TO BLOSSOMS.

FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree,
Why do ye fall so fast?

Your date is not so past,
But you may stay yet here awhile
To blush and gently smile,
And go at last.

What, were ye born to be,

An hour or half's delight,
And so to bid good-night?
'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth
Merely to show your worth,
And lose you quite.

But you are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave:
And after they have shown their pride,
Like you, awhile, they glide
Into the grave.

R. Herrick,

Elder Poets.

162

THE SUNFLOWER.

THE SUNFLOWER.

AH! Sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!

W. Blake.

LOVE-SLAIN.

COME away, come away, Death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
prepare it!

My part of death no one so true
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, O, where

Sad true lover ne'er find my grave,
To weep there.

W. Shakespeare.

TAKE, O take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.

Hide, O hide those hills of snow,

Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow Are of those that April wears: But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those icy chains by thee.

W. Shakespeare.

164

LOVE UNRETURNED

LOVE UNRETURNED.

My silks and fine

array,

My smiles and languished air,

By love are driven away;

And mournful lean Despair
Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Such end true lovers have.

His face is fair as heaven
When springing buds unfold;
Oh, why to him was't given,
Whose heart is wintry cold?
His breast is love's all-worshipp'd tomb,
Where all love's pilgrims come.

Bring me an axe and spade,

Bring me a winding sheet;
When I my grave have made,

Let winds and tempests beat:
Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay.
True love doth pass away!

W. Blake.