As every flower fades and as all youth departs, so life at every stage, So every virtue, so our grasp of truth,
Blooms in its day and may not last forever.

Leaves grow green to fall,
Flowers grow fair to fade,
Fruits grow ripe to rot —
All but for passing made.

A FLOWER THAT SMILES TODAY , TOMORROW DIES. ALL THAT WE WISH TO STAY, TEMPTS AND THEN FILES

Sad that our finest aspiration
Our freshest dreams and meditations,
In swift succession should decay,
Like Autumn leaves that rot away.

The flower that smiles today
Tomorrow dies;
All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies;
What is this world's delight?
Lightning, that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright. — Virtue, how frail it is! — Friendship, how rare! — Love, how it sells poor bliss
For proud despair!
But these though they soon fall,
Survive their joy, and all
Which ours we call. — Whilst skies are blue and bright,
Whilst flowers are gay,
Whilst eyes that change ere night
Make glad the day;

Whilst yet the calm hours creep,
Dream thou - and from thy sleep
Then wake to weep.

Time passeth swift away;
Our life is frail, and we may die to-day.

The garlands fade that Spring so lately wove, Each simple flower, which she had nurs’d in dew,
Anemonies that spangled every grove, The primrose wan, and hare-bell, mildly blue.
No more shall violets linger in the dell, Or purple orchis variegate the plain,
Till Spring again shall call forth every bell, And dress with humid hands, her wreaths again.
Ah! poor humanity! so frail, so fair, Are the fond visions of thy early day,
Till tyrant passion, and corrosive care, Bid all thy fairy colours fade away!
Another May new buds and flowers shall bring;
Ah! why has happiness—no second spring?

Alas! that every lovely thing
Lives only but for withering,—
That spring rainbows and summer shine
End but in autumn's pale decline.

Brittle beauty, that Nature made so frail,
Whereof the gift is small, and short the season;
Flowering to-day, to-morrow apt to fail;
Tickle treasure, abhorred of reason:
Dangerous to deal with, vain, of none avail;
Costly in keeping, past not worth two peason.

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

It is most sad to watch the fall
Of autumn leaves!--but worst of all
It is to watch the flower of spring
Faded in its fresh blossoming!

How fading are the joys we dote upon! Like apparitions seen and gone. But those which soonest take their flight
Are the most exquisite and strong,— Like angels’ visits, short and bright;
Mortality ’s too weak to bear them long.

Ah, Lalage! while life is ours,
Hoard not thy beauty rose and white,
But pluck the pretty, fleeting flowers
That deck our little path of light:
For all too soon we twain shall tread
The bitter pastures of the dead:
Estranged, sad spectres of the night.

And this same flower that smiles today,
To-morrow will be dying.