The white will tell you how I languish,
And the red express my anguish:
The white my innocence displaying,
The red my martyrdom betraying.
The frowns that on your brow resided
Have those roses thus divided;
Oh! let your smiles but clear the weather,
And then they both shall grow together."*
--
* See Saintsbury's `Elizabethan Literature' (Macmillan & Co., New York, 1887),
p. 363.
--
Rollicking Robert Herrick, too, draws his morals, now advising the virgins
to make much of time, as in his `Gather ye rose-buds while ye may',
now preaching a rarely pathetic sermon, as in `To Blossoms':
"Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
Why do ye fall so fast?
Your date is not so past,
But you may stay yet here awhile
To blush and gently smile,
And go at last.
"What, were ye born to be
An hour or half's delight,
And so to bid good-night?
'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth
Merely to show your worth,
And lose you quite.
"But you are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave:
And after they have shown their pride
Like you, awhile, they glide
Into the grave.
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