The flowers of the Spring that enamel the vale, <br />Give their dyes to the meadows, their sweets to the gale, <br />From the sun-beam, the shower, and the soft-falling dew <br />Receive all their treasures of odour, and hue. <br />When Winter extends his tyrannical reign, <br />Fades every gay blossom that painted the plain, <br />And all the bright offspring of sunshine and showers <br />Shrink up at the blast of December's stern hours, <br />Though Love's gentle power can more sweetness disclose <br />Than the vi'let or woodbine, the jasmine or rose, <br />Yet none of them holds so precarious perfume, <br />A texture so tender, so fleeting a bloom. <br />All it's sweetness it draws like the Daughters of May <br />From Pity's soft dew, and from Kindness' mild ray, <br />Like them it will shrink from the frost of Disdain, <br />But never like them will it blossom again.<br /><br />Henry James Pye<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-the-flowers-of-the-spring-that-enamel-the-vale/
