As the lilies languish on their stems,
So pleasing tresses fail the head;
And swiftly is the radiance dimmed770
Which gleams from the tender cheeks of youth!
Each day hath its spoil from the lovely form;
For beauty flees and soon is gone.
Who then would trust a gift so frail?
Nay, use its joys, while still thou mayst;
For silent time will soon destroy thee,775
And hours to baser hours steal on.