TO A BEAUTIFUL GIRL.
Sweet flower, so young, so fresh, so fair,
Bright pleasure sparkling in thine eye;
Alas! e'en thee, time will not spare,
For thou must die.
Bright pleasure sparkling in thine eye;
Alas! e'en thee, time will not spare,
For thou must die.
That heart, with youthful hope so gay,
That scarcely ever breathed a sigh,
Must weep o'er pleasures fled away;
For all must die.
That scarcely ever breathed a sigh,
Must weep o'er pleasures fled away;
For all must die.
But, though the rosy cheek may fade,
The virtuous wish, the purpose high,
The bloom with which thy soul 's arrayed,
Shall never die.
The virtuous wish, the purpose high,
The bloom with which thy soul 's arrayed,
Shall never die.
