Brave flowers, that I could gallant it like you, And be as little vain; You come abroad and make a harmless show, And to your beds of earth again; You are not proud, you know your birth, For your embroidered garments are from earth. You do obey your months and times, but I Would have it ever spring; My fate would know no winter, never die, Nor think of such a thing; Oh that I could my bed of earth but view, And smile and look as cheerfully as you. Oh teach me to see death and not to fear, But rather to take truce; How often have I seen you at a bier, And there look fresh and spruce; You fragrant flowers then teach me that my breath Like yours may sweeten and perfume my death. |