Well may it droop, and all its freshness lose,
Compell’d to taste the rank and pois’nous steam
Of midnight theater and morning ball.
Give to repose the solemn hour she claims;
And from the forehead of the morning steal
The sweet occasion. Oh! there is a charm
Which morning has, that gives the brow of age
A smack of youth, and makes the lip of youth
Shed perfume exquisite. Expect it not,
Ye who till noon upon a down-bed lie,