Thus fair and frail, so gay and brief;
Will Time the autumnal Blossom bring
To glow beside the withering Leaf?
No, no! the Voice of Nature cries:
“The Flower that’s dead for ever dies.”
Say, can a second Youth be felt
Again its freshness to impart;
To bid Life’s freezing Current melt;
To thrill with Joy the languid Heart? 10
No, no! Youth’s Warmth and rosy Hue