Thus seeks the flower in its course to bloom,
When blossom’s scent thrives and wanes in due time,
And beauty, its fair-weather friend entomb,
Or winter’s chill dare change while’s paradigm;
Afore the ideal raiment of that star,
The brightness of which can consume thine heart
Tasting the nectar from both near and far;
So seduction dies ere the vine depart.
In relics of love in tombs distant find,
Deprived of all color, and adornment
Pleasure’s genius once gold crowns of the mind,
Fading in shadows of death’s attainment
And me no reprieve mine resolve doth bind
To live in false hope that morrow thee shined.