Each drooping season and each flower doth cry,
Fool! as I fade and wither, thou must die.
The beating of thy pulse (when thou art well)
Is just the tolling of thy passing bell:
Night is thy hearse, whose sable canopy
10Covers alike deceased day and thee.
And all those weeping dews which nightly fall,
Are but the tears shed for thy funeral.
My Midnight Meditation.] 11 which] MS. 'that'. In Parnassus Biceps, p. 80, with title 'On Man': ll. 9-10 are absent from this version. Mr. Thorn-Drury thinks that this is Dr. John King's (so ascribed in Malone MS. 21, fol. 2b, and Mr. Dobell's MS. of Strode).