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 awhileTo blush and gently smile,And go at last.
What, were ye born to beAn hour or half’s delight,And so to bid good-night?’Twas pity Nature brought ye forthMerely to show your worth,And lose you quite!
But you are lovely leaves, where weMay read how soon things haveTheir end, though ne’er so brave:And after they have shown their prideLike you, awhile, they glideInto the grave.