Classic Poem

The pride of ev'ry grove I chose,
The vi'let sweet, and lily fair,
The dappled pink, and blushing rose,
To deck my charming C HLOE'S hair.

At morn the nymph vouchfas'd to place
Upon her brow the various wreath;
The flow'rs less blooming than her face,
The scent less fragrant than her breath.

The flow'rs she wore along the day:
And ev'ry nymph and shepherd said,
That in her hair they look'd more gay,
Than glowing in their native bed.

Undrest at ev'ning when she found
Their odours lost, their colours past,
She chang'd her look, and on the ground
Her garland and her eye she cast.

That eye dropt sense, distinct and clear,
As any muse's tongue could speak;
When from it's lid a pearly tear
Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek.

Dissembling what I knew too well,
My love, my life, said I, explain
This change of humour: Pr'ythee tell;
The falling tear—what does it mean?

She sigh'd; she smil'd; and to the flow'rs
Pointing, the lovely mor'list said,
See, friend, in some few fleeting hours,
See yonder what a change is made.

Ah! me, the blooming pride of May,
And that of beauty are but one;
At morn both flourish bright and gay,
But fade at ev'ning pale, and gone!

At dawn poor S TELLA danc'd and sung;
The amorous youths around her bow'd:
At nighTher fatal knell was rung;
I saw, and kiss'd her in her shroud.

Such as she is, who dy'd to-day,
Such I, alas! may be to-morrow:
Go, D AMON , bid thy muse display,
The Justice of thy C HLOE'S sorrow.