286

SILECT POETRY

’ Too soon its fleeting charms must lie

Decayed, unnoticed, overthrown ;
Oh hasten not its destiny,
So like my own.

The breeze will roam this way to-morrow,
And sigh to find its playmate gone ;

The bee will come its sweets to borrow,
And meet with none.

Oh spare! and let it still outspread,
Its beauties to the passing eye,

And look up from its lowly bed
Upon the sky.

Oh spare my flower! Thou know’st not what
Thy undiscerning hand would tear ;

A thousand charms thou notest not,
Lie treasured there.

Not Solomon, in all his state,
Was clad like Nature’s simplest child,
Nor could the world combined create
One floweret wild.

Spare, then, this humble monument
Of the Almighty’s power and skill ;
And let it at his shrine present
Its homage still.

He made it who makes nought in vain ;
He watches it who watches thee ;
And He can best its date ordain,
Who bade it be.
J yee.