Sweet Flower! that peeping from thy russet stem
Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange sort
This dark, freeze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering Month
Hath borrow'd Zephyr's voice, and gaz'd upon thee
With blue voluptuous eye) alas, poor Flower!
These are but flatteries of the faithless year.
Perchance, escaped its unknown polar cave,
Ev'n now the keen North-East is on its way.
Flower that must perish! shall I liken thee
To some sweet girl of too too rapid growth
Nipp'd by Consumption mid untimely charms?
Or to Bristowa's ^[1]Bard, the wonderous boy!
An Amaranth, which Earth scarce seem'd to own,
Blooming mid poverty's drear wintry waste,
Till Disappointment came, and pelting wrong