90. Upon Julia’s Recovery
Droop, droop no more, or hang the head,Ye roses almost withered;Now strength, and newer purple get,Each here declining violet.O primroses! let this day beA resurrection unto ye;And to all flowers allied in blood,Or sworn to that sweet sisterhood.For health on Julia’s cheek hath shedClaret and cream commingled;And those, her lips, do now appearAs beams of coral, but more clear.