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BARREN BLOSSOM.
FEARED the fury of my wind
Would blight all blossoms fair and true; And my sun it shined and shined, And my wind it never blew. But a blossom fair or true Was not found on any tree; For dl blossoms grew and grew Fruitless, false, though fair to see. NIGHT AND DAY. silen Night, the holy light � . .. torches bright; For, possessed of Day, Thousand spirits stray That sweet joys betray. Why should joys be sweet Used with deceit, Nor with sorrows meet ? But an honest joy Doth itself destroy For a harlot coy.
