Too soon at best their early fragrance flees.
Seek not to know, to see, or taste too much:
The sweetest, deepest cup hath still its lees;
The blushing grape is not too rudely pressed,
When gushes forth its richest and its best.
Bird, bubble, butterfly on light wing straying,
With changing tints of crimson, blue, and gold,
Upon warm waves of summer sunlight swaying,
When thy frail, flaming wing the boy shall hold,
Alas, how soon its fragile charms expire!