Or when you die you are the same;
The space between is but an hour—
The frail duration of a flower.
Philip Freneau, 1752–1832.
WILD FLOWERS.
I dreamed that, as I wander’d by the way,
Bare winter suddenly was changed to spring,
And gentle odors led my steps astray,
Mix’d with a sound of waters murmuring
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay