Thy living lustre still remains
Untainted by, or sun, or shade!
The dappled pink, and lily pale,
With ev’ry gaudy-tinted flow’r
That decks the hill, or scents the dale,
If gather’d, fade to bloom no more.
But thou, Elysian flow’r divine!
If sprinkled o’er with balmy dew,
Again thy wonted colours shine,
Again thy purple beams anew!