The Flowers of the Spring

The Crocus, new expanded, mourns
Her Fate, and many a tear is shed;
Lest, when Maria home returns,
Her transient Sweets should all be sped.

The Vi'let yet remains unclos'd,
Nor gives her fragrance to the Gale;
But soon, to every Eye expos'd,
She must her balmy breath exhale.

Then come, ere yet the wandering Bee,
Has all her hoarded wealth possess'd;
While yet she holds her Sweets for thee
Enfolded in her Azure Vest!

For, tho' we cannot yet describe
The Bloom that warmer Scenes unfold,
We now can boast a lovely Tribe
That bare their bosoms to the Cold.

These Children of the early Year
Must soon their rip'ning Charms disclose;
Then, while they live, do thou appear;
In mercy, wait not for the rose!