You are a Tulip seen to-day, <br />But, Dearest, of so short a stay, <br />That where you grew, scarce man can say. <br /> <br />You are a lovely July-flower; <br />Yet one rude wind, or ruffling shower, <br />Will force you hence, and in an hour. <br /> <br />You are a sparkling Rose i'th' bud, <br />Yet lost, ere that chaste flesh and blood <br />Can show where you or grew or stood. <br /> <br />You are a full-spread fair-set Vine, <br />And can with tendrils love entwine; <br />Yet dried, ere you distil your wine. <br /> <br />You are like Balm, enclosed well <br />In amber, or some crystal shell; <br />Yet lost ere you transfuse your smell. <br /> <br />You are a dainty Violet; <br />Yet wither'd, ere you can be set <br />Within the virgins coronet. <br /> <br />You are the Queen all flowers among; <br />But die you must, fair maid, ere long, <br />As he, the maker of this song.<br /><br />Robert Herrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-meditation-for-his-mistress/
