Fair flower, that dost so comely grow, <br />Hid in this silent, dull retreat, <br />Untouched thy honied blossoms blow, <br />Unseen thy little branches greet; <br />...No roving foot shall crush thee here, <br />...No busy hand provoke a tear. <br /> <br />By Nature's self in white arrayed, <br />She bade thee shun the vulgar eye, <br />And planted here the gaurdian shade, <br />And sent soft waters murmuring by; <br />...Thus quietly thy summer goes, <br />...Thy days declinging to repose. <br /> <br />Smit with those charms, that must decay, <br />I grieve to see your future doom; <br />They died--nor were those flowers more gay, <br />The flowers that did in Eden bloom; <br />...Unpitying frosts, and Autumn's power <br />...Shall leave no vestige of this flower. <br /> <br />From morning suns and evenign dews <br />At first thy little being came: <br />If nothing once, you nothing lose, <br />For when you die you are the same; <br />...The space between, is but an hour, <br />...The frail duration of a flower.<br /><br />Philip Freneau<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wild-honey-suckle/
