VE flowers—that I could gallant it like you, And be as little vain!
You come abroad, and make a harmless show, And to your beds of earth again.
You are not proud: you know your birth:
For your embroider'd garments are from earth.
You do obey your months and times, but I Would have it ever Spring:
My fate would know no Winter, never die, Nor think of such a thing.
O that I could my bed of earth but
And smile, and look as cheerfully as you!
O teach me to see Death and not to fear, But rather to take truce!
How often have I seen you at a bier, And there look fresh and spruce!
You fragrant flowers! then teach me, that my
Like yours may sweeten and perfume my death.
