ANNA LAETITIA BARBAULD1743-1825
1743-1825
Flowers to the Fair! to you these flowers I bring,And strive to greet you with an earlier spring.Flowers sweet and gay, and delicate like you,Emblems of innocence and beauty, too.With flowers the Graces bind their yellow hair,And flowery wreaths consenting lovers wear.Flowers, the sole luxury which nature knew,In Eden’s pure and guiltless garden grew.To loftier forms are rougher tasks assign’d,The sheltering oak resists the stormy wind—The tougher yew repels invading foes,And the tall pine for future navies grows;But this soft family, to cares unknown,Were born for pleasure and delight alone.Gay without toil, and lovely without art,They spring to cheer the sense and glad the heart.Nor blush, my fair, to own you copy these;Your best, your sweetest empire is—to please.
Flowers to the Fair! to you these flowers I bring,And strive to greet you with an earlier spring.Flowers sweet and gay, and delicate like you,Emblems of innocence and beauty, too.With flowers the Graces bind their yellow hair,And flowery wreaths consenting lovers wear.Flowers, the sole luxury which nature knew,In Eden’s pure and guiltless garden grew.To loftier forms are rougher tasks assign’d,The sheltering oak resists the stormy wind—The tougher yew repels invading foes,And the tall pine for future navies grows;But this soft family, to cares unknown,Were born for pleasure and delight alone.Gay without toil, and lovely without art,They spring to cheer the sense and glad the heart.Nor blush, my fair, to own you copy these;Your best, your sweetest empire is—to please.
Flowers to the Fair! to you these flowers I bring,And strive to greet you with an earlier spring.Flowers sweet and gay, and delicate like you,Emblems of innocence and beauty, too.With flowers the Graces bind their yellow hair,And flowery wreaths consenting lovers wear.Flowers, the sole luxury which nature knew,In Eden’s pure and guiltless garden grew.To loftier forms are rougher tasks assign’d,The sheltering oak resists the stormy wind—The tougher yew repels invading foes,And the tall pine for future navies grows;But this soft family, to cares unknown,Were born for pleasure and delight alone.Gay without toil, and lovely without art,They spring to cheer the sense and glad the heart.Nor blush, my fair, to own you copy these;Your best, your sweetest empire is—to please.
Flowers to the Fair! to you these flowers I bring,
And strive to greet you with an earlier spring.
Flowers sweet and gay, and delicate like you,
Emblems of innocence and beauty, too.
With flowers the Graces bind their yellow hair,
And flowery wreaths consenting lovers wear.
Flowers, the sole luxury which nature knew,
In Eden’s pure and guiltless garden grew.
To loftier forms are rougher tasks assign’d,
The sheltering oak resists the stormy wind—
The tougher yew repels invading foes,
And the tall pine for future navies grows;
But this soft family, to cares unknown,
Were born for pleasure and delight alone.
Gay without toil, and lovely without art,
They spring to cheer the sense and glad the heart.
Nor blush, my fair, to own you copy these;
Your best, your sweetest empire is—to please.
Life! I know not what thou art,But know that thou and I must part;And when, or how, or where we metI own to me’s a secret yet.But this I know, when thou art fled,Where’er they lay these limbs, this head,No clod so valueless shall beAs all that then remains to me.O whither, whither dost thou fly?Where bend unseen thy trackless course?And in this strange divorce,Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I?To the vast ocean of empyreal flameFrom whence thy essence cameDost thou thy flight pursue, when freedFrom matter’s base encumbering weed?Or dost thou, hid from sight,Wait, like some spell-bound knight,Through blank oblivious years th’ appointed hourTo break thy trance and reassume thy power?Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be?O say, what art thou, when no more thou’rt thee?Life! we have been long together,Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;’Tis hard to part when friends are dear;Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear:—Then steal away, give little warning,Choose thine own time;Say not Good-night, but in some brighter climeBid me Good-morning!
Life! I know not what thou art,But know that thou and I must part;And when, or how, or where we metI own to me’s a secret yet.But this I know, when thou art fled,Where’er they lay these limbs, this head,No clod so valueless shall beAs all that then remains to me.O whither, whither dost thou fly?Where bend unseen thy trackless course?And in this strange divorce,Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I?To the vast ocean of empyreal flameFrom whence thy essence cameDost thou thy flight pursue, when freedFrom matter’s base encumbering weed?Or dost thou, hid from sight,Wait, like some spell-bound knight,Through blank oblivious years th’ appointed hourTo break thy trance and reassume thy power?Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be?O say, what art thou, when no more thou’rt thee?Life! we have been long together,Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;’Tis hard to part when friends are dear;Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear:—Then steal away, give little warning,Choose thine own time;Say not Good-night, but in some brighter climeBid me Good-morning!
Life! I know not what thou art,But know that thou and I must part;And when, or how, or where we metI own to me’s a secret yet.But this I know, when thou art fled,Where’er they lay these limbs, this head,No clod so valueless shall beAs all that then remains to me.O whither, whither dost thou fly?Where bend unseen thy trackless course?And in this strange divorce,Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I?To the vast ocean of empyreal flameFrom whence thy essence cameDost thou thy flight pursue, when freedFrom matter’s base encumbering weed?Or dost thou, hid from sight,Wait, like some spell-bound knight,Through blank oblivious years th’ appointed hourTo break thy trance and reassume thy power?Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be?O say, what art thou, when no more thou’rt thee?Life! we have been long together,Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;’Tis hard to part when friends are dear;Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear:—Then steal away, give little warning,Choose thine own time;Say not Good-night, but in some brighter climeBid me Good-morning!
Life! I know not what thou art,
But know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met
I own to me’s a secret yet.
But this I know, when thou art fled,
Where’er they lay these limbs, this head,
No clod so valueless shall be
As all that then remains to me.
O whither, whither dost thou fly?
Where bend unseen thy trackless course?
And in this strange divorce,
Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I?
To the vast ocean of empyreal flame
From whence thy essence came
Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed
From matter’s base encumbering weed?
Or dost thou, hid from sight,
Wait, like some spell-bound knight,
Through blank oblivious years th’ appointed hour
To break thy trance and reassume thy power?
Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be?
O say, what art thou, when no more thou’rt thee?
Life! we have been long together,
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
’Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear:—
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time;
Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good-morning!