TO BLOSSOMS

Robert Herrick 1591-1674

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,

Why do ye fall so fast?

Your date is not so past

But you may stay here yet a while,

To blush and gently smile;

And go at last.

What! Were ye born to be

An hour and half's delight;

And so to bid goodnight?

'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 a while, they glide

Into the grave.

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