A Simile

Oft have I view'd the flow'rs while bright and gay,
They gave their beauties to the noon-tide ray.
But short, alas! their bloom, and soon they fade,
Unbless'd with cooling show'rs, or friendly shade.
See the clouds blacken, heavy show'rs descend,
The weak, soft race o'erladen, droop and bend,
Recline their languid heads, and seem to mourn,
Till the storm cease, and sunny beams return:
Then smiling, rise more lovely, bright and fair,
And with new sweets perfume the ambient air.

Thus, to the soul affliction oft supplies
New life, and bids declining virtue rise.
The storm, which seem'd a while t' oppress, revives
Each fading grace, and strength and beauty gives.
Their drooping pow'rs, by heaven's kind influence fed,
A fairer bloom, and sweeter fragrance spread.
Prest with affliction, let me then conclude,
That storms and sunshine, (kind vicissitude!)
Are mingled blessings, meant to work my good