The breath of night's destructive to the hue
Of every flower that blows.
* * * Oh, there is a charm
Which morning has, that gives the brow of age
A smack of youth, and makes the life of youth
Shed perfume exquisite. Expect it not,
Ye who till noon upon a down bed lie,
Indulging feverous sleep."
Hurdis, Village Curate.
"Watch and ward,