That far from ENVY's lurid eye The fairest fruits of GENIUS rear, Content to see them bloom and die In Friendship's small but kindly sphere. The Evening Primrose shuns the day; Blooms only to the western star, And loves its solitary ray. In EDEN's vale an aged hind, At the dim twilight's closing hour, On his time-smoothed staff reclined, With wonder viewed the opening flower. "Ill-fated flower, at eve to blow," In pity's simple thought he cries, Thy bosom must not feel the glow "Nor thee, the vagrants of the field, "Nor thee the hasty shepherd heeds, When love has filled his heart with cares, "For flowers he rifles all the meads, "For waking flowers-but thine forbears. "Ah! waste no more that beauteous bloom "On night's chill shade, that fragrant breath, "Let smiling suns those gems illume! "Fair flower, to live unseen is death." Soft as the voice of vernal gales That o'er the bending meadow blow, Or streams that steal through even vales, And murmur that they move so slow: Deep in her unfrequented bower, Live unseen! By moonlight shades, in valleys green, Of our pleasures deem not lightly, But I love the modest mien, Still I love the modest mien Of gentle ev'ning fair, and her star-trained queen. Didst thou, shepherd, never find, Has thy cottage never known Gliding o'er thy yielding mind, While all disarmed, the cares of day In this undistinguished shade. Far from the world's infectious view, Thy little virtues safely blew. Go, and in day's more dangerous hour, Guard thy emblematic flower. |