“Then on the blood sweet nectar she bestows;
The scented blood in little bubbles rose;
Little as rainy drops, which flutt’ring fly,
Borne by the winds, along a lowering sky.
Short time ensued till where the blood was shed
A flower began to rear its purple head.
Such as on Punic Apples is revealed,
Or in the filmy rind but half concealed,
Still here the fate of lovely forms we see,
So sudden fades the sweet Anemone.