This change of humor; pr’ythee tell:
That falling tear—what does it mean?”
She sigh’d; she smiled: and to the flowers
Pointing, the lovely moralist said—
“See, friend, in some few fleeting hours,
See yonder, what a change is made!”
Ah me! the blooming pride of May,
And that of beauty, are but one:
At morn both flourish bright and gay;
Both fade at evening, pale, and gone.