"Sweet-heart, come see if the Rose"

Sweet-heart, come see if the rose
Which at morning began to unclose
Its damask gown to the sun
Has not lost, now the day is done,
The folds of its damasked gown
And its colors so like your own.

Ah, see, in how brief a space,
Sweet-heart, it strewed the place,
Alas, with its beauties' fall! . . .
O step-dame Nature! — if all
Of life you will grant such a flower
Is from morning to evening hour!

Then hear me and heed, sweet-heart:
Swiftly the years depart!
Harvest, oh! harvest your hour
While life is a-bloom with youth!
For age with bitter ruth
Will fade your beauty's flower.