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 embroider'd 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. O that I could my bed of earth but view And smile, and look as cheerfully as you!

O 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.