XXXI ( <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />version) <br /> Look, Delia, how we 'steem the half-blown rose, <br /> The image of thy blush and summer's honour, <br /> Whilst in her tender green she doth enclose <br /> That pure sweet beauty time bestows upon her. <br /> No sooner spreads her glory in the air <br /> But straight her full-blown pride is in declining; <br /> She then is scorn'd that late adorn'd the fair: <br /> So clouds thy beauty after fairest shining. <br /> No April can revive thy wither'd flowers, <br /> Whose blooming grace adorns thy beauty now; <br /> Swift speedy time, feather'd with flying hours, <br /> Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow. <br /> O let not then such riches waste in vain, <br /> But love whilst that thou mayst be lov'd again.<br /><br />Samuel Daniel<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/delia-xxxi-1592-version-look-delia-how-we-steem/
